Sweet Temptations
by lucidscreamer
Summary: Tombkeeper Atem never expected to solve the Millennium Puzzle, run away from home, or fall in love. Now, having done all 3, he just has to stay free -and alive- long enough to enjoy his new life. More detailed summary inside. AU. Slash. Yami/Yugi Puzzleshipping
1. Chapter 1

This has been languishing on my hard drive for awhile, so I thought I'd start posting it.

Summary: Atem is an unremarkable member of the Tombkeepers - until he solves the Millennium Puzzle and is forced to join the ranks of the Guardians. Now bonded to the Puzzle, Atem is expected to spend his life in service to the Item, guarding the Seal of Shadows. Instead, he runs away from home, changes his name to "Yami", loses the Puzzle - and gains the love of a lifetime. Now, all he has to do is live long enough to enjoy it. Oh, and get the Puzzle back before darkness takes over the world forever. Piece of cake!

Pairings: Yami/Yugi; minor Bakheru/Ryou

Notes, warnings, and potential triggers: This story contains scenes of forced body modification (scarification), some violence, and strong language. The prologue contains character death of a minor canon character. Despite how that makes it sound, this is actually a comedy/romance fic, not a dark!fic.

For this AU, I'm using the English dub names and setting, so Domino City is somewhere in the US, rather than in Japan. Hopefully, this will be clear from the context, but I wanted to make sure there was no confusion on that point. Also, I try to give real-world explanations for any odd hairstyles/eye-colors, so descriptions may not _exactly_ match the characters' appearances in the anime. This story is NOT a fusion with anything other than my crazy imagination.

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! is the creation and property of Kazuki Takahashi. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Sweet Temptations **

(A Yugioh AU romance novel by Lucidscreamer)

Prologue

Shadi knew he was dying.

It was hard to miss it when his blood was rushing from the wound on his chest, soaking his once-white _jalabiya_ and staining it like a mark of sin. And had he not sinned against the Pharaoh? For he had failed in his appointed task, failed to protect that which belonged to the Pharaoh, and now death came for him on swift wings. He could hear them coming closer, even over the frantic fluttering of his heart. The blood pooling beneath him felt cold, his warmth leaching away into the stone on which his body lay. His blood oozed into the hieroglyphs chiseled into the surface of the tablet, painting them crimson.

Through fading vision, he watched his killer pluck the golden Eye from its place in the tablet and hold it up to the light. Gray shadows nibbled at the corners of his sight, drawing in like a collapsing tunnel. As everything faded to black, he heard his killer's triumphant laughter turn to screams.

* * *

Chapter 1

Yugi Mutou groaned as he slid the final tray loaded with red velvet cupcakes into the glass display case at the front of the bakery. He did not straighten immediately, instead leaning against the sloping side of the counter and resting his forehead on the Formica countertop next to the cash register. After the heat of the kitchen, the cool surface of the countertop felt like heaven.

He heaved a heartfelt sigh. "I never want to see another cupcake as long as I live."

"Don't say that!" Ryou thumped another long tray, this one filled with a mix of lemon chiffon and green tea chai cupcakes, into the display case and slid the rear panel closed. Then he slumped across the top of the display case next to Yugi and aimed a desultory swat at Yugi's hair - some of which had escaped from the confines of his health-department-approved paper hat - along with a look of not-entirely-mock horror. "That's my livelihood you're maligning, you know."

The two young men were coated from head to toe in organic, artisan cake flour. Yugi had a smear of bright red batter across one cheek and cream cheese frosting on the other, like some kind of edible war paint. The flour had turned his two-toned hair as white as his friend's cottony blond coif. Ryou had a dusting of food-grade glitter in his hair and raspberry-pink frosting under his fingernails. They had been baking since before dawn, and both of them were exhausted.

Yugi tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. He wasn't a morning person at the best of times, and getting up at "oh my god, it's still dark!" o'clock in the morning to bake cupcakes was not his idea of a fun way to start the day. But Ryou was his friend, and Ryou desperately needed someone to help with the family bakery after his mother's accident. With Ryou's mother and older sister both out of commission for the foreseeable future, and Ryou's archaeologist father in Egypt, Ryou had no one else to turn to. How could Yugi possibly say no?

So, for the last two weeks, Yugi had found himself rising before the sun to help Ryou at the bakery, then dashing back across town to take his turn behind the counter at his grandfather's game shop. By evening, he could barely keep his eyes open and it would be all he could manage just to stay awake through dinner. He usually tumbled into bed by nine o'clock, almost asleep before his head hit the pillow.

"...Yugi? Are you all right?" Ryou's concerned voice finally penetrated the fog of Yugi's thoughts, and drew him back to the present.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just sleepy." Yugi grinned around another jaw-popping yawn. "That was the last of the cupcakes?"

"The full-sized ones, yes." Ryou straightened, stretched, and, with what Yugi considered to be an obscene amount of enthusiasm, announced, "Now we can start on the minis!"

Yugi smacked himself in the forehead, sending up a mushroom cloud of flour. He _hated_ the miniature cupcakes. Oh, like all the products of Sweet Temptations, the Bakura family's bakery, the tiny cupcakes tasted wonderful, but the stupid little things took forever to frost and decorate. "You're a sadistic slave driver, Ryou. You know that, right?"

"Yup!" Ryou chirped in the face of Yugi's deer-in-on-coming-traffic look before bouncing back into the kitchen. To add insult to injury, Ryou was an unabashed morning person and never showed any pity for the fact that Yugi was barely sentient before noon. Yugi only survived the ordeal through the intake of massive amounts of caffeine. At the moment, he was considering the feasibility of an intravenous delivery system.

Ryou's disgustingly eager voice sang out from the open doorway. "Come along! Those miniature cupcakes aren't going to frost themselves, you know. And, after that, we have the special orders!"

"_Argh_," Yugi observed philosophically and, thinking longingly of warm blankets and soft pillows, trudged after Ryou.

-o0o-

World famous duelist and champion gamer Yami ("Just 'Yami'. Like Cher or Madonna, only with a Y-chromosome and a killer endgame.") was having a Very Bad Day.

It had started when his alarm had not gone off on time. He had been forced to race from his hotel to the airport (without breakfast, in the rain, and only half-awake), arriving just in time to find out his flight had been delayed. This did nothing to improve his already sour mood. Yami needed a break. He had altered his travel schedule from the press release the tournament publicist had sent out the previous month, so he was arriving in Domino City one week ahead of his announced itinerary. After a couple of months of intense tournament dueling, Yami felt ready for a well-deserved break from the game of Duel Monsters.

Oh, he still loved the game, and it paid the bills, but heading into the third leg of a triple-crown tournament series, he found himself on the verge of burning out. He was twenty-three years old and one tournament win away from the prize that would make him a millionaire. Then he could take some much needed time off - and maybe finally find the elusive _something_ that had been calling to him since he was fifteen and solved the Millennium Puzzle.

He shook thoughts of the Puzzle (and the inevitable thoughts of the family obligations that went along with it) from his head and continued stalking away from the customer service desk of the god-forsaken airline that had just informed him they had lost his luggage. _He_ had arrived safely at Domino International Airport. His luggage, on the other hand, was winging its merry way across the Pacific ...to Honolulu. The airline agent tried to make light of the situation by joking that at least they got the destination _country_ right, if not the state. To say that Yami was not amused by this turn of events would be an understatement of epic proportions, as the unlucky airline employee had found out when Yami's personality setting flipped from _sweetheart_ to _bitch_ in under sixty seconds.

Yami had been assured that the airline would retrieve his suitcases and usher them into their owner's waiting arms as fast as was humanly possible. Yami fumed and wished the foolish folk tales about the Items granting their wielders magical powers were true so he could feed the entire airline to the fabled Shadows. Granted, the Items were not exactly _normal_. No inanimate object should be able to bind itself to a person 'til death did them part. But he had never seen even a hint of the kind of magic the old stories described, the kind family legend insisted resided within the Items.

As he left the customer service area, Yami sighed and banished his musings to the imaginary Shadows. He didn't care that much about the loss of his clothes or even his laptop; they were all replaceable. But he had foolishly packed the Millennium Puzzle in his suitcase rather than in his carry-on bag. And while he had absolutely no desire to return to Egypt and take up the yoke of family responsibility that came with the damned Puzzle, neither did he like the idea of the stupid thing going on a separate vacation while its bonded Guardian cooled his heels half a world away.

Sometimes, he mused as he shouldered his way through the crowd with only his carry-on bag and a bad temper to show for several hours of waiting in line, life really sucked.

Then he hit the main concourse and found out that life sucked even harder than he had ever thought possible.

-o0o-

Yugi stuck around to help Ryou through the worst of the lunch crowd that mobbed the bakery right on schedule, and then shucked out of his apron and paper hat to bolt across town to the Kame Game Shop. A hasty shower and a change into non-flour-coated clothes in the apartment above the shop, and Yugi hurried back downstairs to take over the afternoon shift from his grandfather.

Solomon Mutou smiled at him as Yugi skidded through the door and slid into place behind the long counter at the rear of the shop. "Ah, there you are! I was beginning to wonder if you'd gotten lost on your way home."

"Sorry, Grandpa. The bakery was _really_ busy." Yugi climbed onto the empty stool beside his grandfather and tried not to look as tired as he felt. "I never imagined so many cupcake-crazed people lived in Domino City."

Solomon chortled. "At least business is good for Ryou. That boy could certainly use some good fortune right about now."

Yugi nodded. Ryou's mother and sister were both recovering from a freeway encounter with a truckload of rogue soccer balls. The soccer balls (apparently unsatisfied with their lot in life and unwilling to be kicked around anymore) had made a determined bid to end their bondage in the middle of Domino Bay Bridge, causing a twelve car pile-up as the spherical escapees bounced toward the inviting waters of the channel and freedom. In the resulting collision, Ryou's mother suffered a mild concussion, a broken arm, and a broken ankle. His sister fared little better, with a broken nose and two broken legs. They were both home from the hospital, but neither of the Bakura women would be in any shape to return to the bakery for some time to come.

With Ryou's father in Egypt for the next several months on an assignment for the Domino Museum, the Bakuras could not afford to close the bakery until Angela and Amane could resume their positions. Nor could they afford to hire replacements. In addition to the hospital bills and continuing expenses such as pain medications, special equipment like wheelchairs and shower seats, and follow up doctor's visits, they had to have a home care assistant visit during the day so that Ryou could operate the bakery. When Angela and Amane's recovery was far enough along, there would be the added expense of physical therapy, as well.

"The bakery's doing great." Yugi shook off the gloomy thoughts and turned to straightening the foil booster packs of Duel Monsters cards on the counter. "And Ryou said his mom and sister are feeling much better."

"I'm glad to hear it." Solomon eyed Yugi thoughtfully, and then swiveled on his stool so that he could see the clock on the wall behind them. "Have you had lunch?"

"Um." Yugi's stomach betrayed him with a loud, and rather obnoxious, gurgle. He flushed. "Not really."

"That's what I thought." Solomon heaved a sigh as he hopped down from his seat. At four feet eight inches, he was even shorter than his grandson, despite the spiky hairstyle they both shared. Of course, the elder Mutou habitually wore a bandana that covered most of his gray mane, so the similarity was not immediately obvious. He reached up and ruffled Yugi's red and gold crown of hair. "I'll fix you up a couple of hamburgers while you watch the shop."

"Thanks, Grandpa. You're the best."

"You've got to start taking better care of yourself, m'boy. After all, I wouldn't want my favorite grandson to get sick."

"I'm your _only_ grandson, Grandpa."

"That's why you're my favorite!" Solomon called as he disappeared up the short flight of stairs at the back of the shop.

Yugi shook his head fondly and went to straighten the magazine rack.

-o0o-

When Yami found out who had leaked his altered itinerary to the press, he'd… Well, he didn't know what he'd do, but it wouldn't be pleasant. If the airline had recovered his missing luggage by then, he might see if those family legends about the Puzzle held even a grain of truth. If so, the blabbermouth could join Quality (ha!) Airlines in the Lake of Fire. Or maybe he'd feed them to his fangirls, though even _that_ seemed like less torment than the bastards deserved. Maybe he'd just send them the bill for all the therapy he was sure he was going to need to deal with this day, which got better with each passing moment - if by _better_ he meant "so bad it made him want to find a tiny cave on a remote mountain top somewhere and renounce further contact with humanity for the remainder of his life (or longer)."

Yami had barely escaped from the airport with his temper intact. His clothing had not been so fortunate.

The local press had shown up to shove cameras and microphones in his face, and shout variations on the same softball questions they always lobbed at him. He wished they would either leave him alone or come up with something new to ask him. After all, how did they think he felt about the upcoming tournament? After two years in the dueling world, one competition blended into the next, at least for a duelist at his level. False modesty aside, he was not exactly quaking in his boots at the thought of facing Weevil Underwood or Mako Tsunami across a dueling arena. It was a _card game_, not loaded pistols at dawn.

The reporters were bad enough, but the thing that made him determined to find whoever had betrayed his confidence and hang them out to dry (preferably by their most sensitive and/or favorite body part) was the mob of excited fans waiting for him after he had run the paparazzi gauntlet.

Now, Yami was neither stupid nor an ingrate. He knew perfectly well that he owed his lucrative endorsement contracts to his continuing fan appeal, and he was happy to sign a few autographs or shake a few hands. But he drew the line at getting his clothes ripped right off his body by fan-girls and -boys determined to snag a piece of him as a souvenir. He shivered a bit and clutched the remnants of his now-sleeveless black shirt across his chest. When he had put it on (was it really only this morning?) the knit jersey had possessed sleeves long enough to cover the backs of his hands. Now it was a ragged scrap of cloth that barely covered his torso.

Walking past him, a woman glanced at him once, then again. On the second pass, her gaze locked somewhere in the vicinity of his navel and she licked her glossy, red-painted lips. He glanced down and felt his face flush. Correction: make that a ragged scrap of cloth that barely covered his _upper_ torso. Not only was his shirt now a sleeveless model, it also exposed his midriff to the curious stares of passers-by. And he couldn't even duck into a restroom and change, since his entire wardrobe, other than the inadequate clothes on his back, was currently on its way to the Aloha State.

Yami clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to punch something. There was no way in _hell_ this day could get any worse.

-o0o-

_Somewhere, the Universe snickered evilly to itself over the knowledge that a foolish mortal had just challenged the Power of Worse_.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When he found a taxi right away upon exiting the terminal, Yami dared to hope his luck might be improving. He tossed his carry-on bag into the back seat of the cab and slid in behind it. Just in time, too, as the leaden clouds above the city broke, dumping what looked like an ocean's worth of water on Domino. With the deluge, the temperature dropped significantly enough that Yami shivered and tried unsuccessfully to rearrange his ripped shirt so it covered more of his exposed flesh. He spared a longing thought for his missing luggage, which held warm fleece pullover, and added "incipient pneumonia" to the list of things for which he was going to sue Quality (seriously, who did they think they were fooling with that name?) Airlines when all this was over.

"Where to, buddy?"

Yami glanced up at the taxi driver. He had been so deep in his own dark thoughts that he had forgotten the guy was there. He stopped fiddling with his shirt (there just wasn't enough left to do anything with) and gave the driver the name of the hotel where he had reservations for the next two weeks.

No sooner had the cab begun to move than Yami's cell phone warbled at him. He dug it out of his bag, automatically checking the caller ID. He was not surprised when the person on the other end of the phone barked at him without preamble, "You're late!"

"I'm fine, Kaiba. Thanks for asking. How are you?" Yami settled in his seat, the cracked vinyl cold against the exposed skin of his lower back. He gazed out the window at the passing scenery. There wasn't a lot to distinguish it from the last town he'd been in, or the one before that. They had begun to blur in his memory into a single, unattractive mental image labeled "city." He needed a vacation from all the travel, all the tournaments.

Rather than responding to his dig, Kaiba gave an impatient snort. "Where the hell are you?"

"Just leaving the airport. My flight was delayed. I haven't even made it to my hotel."

"Forget the hotel and come straight to my office. I want these contracts signed before the close of business, today."

"Kaiba, I really think I ought to-"

"I don't pay you to _think_! You have fifteen minutes to get here or the deal is off."

The phone went dead. Yami glared at it for a minute, wishing he could transmit his ire via relay tower, and then shoved the phone back into his bag. He looked up to find the driver watching him in the rear view mirror. "I need to get to Kaiba Corporation Headquarters in less than fifteen minutes. I tip well."

"You got it!" The car swung into an illegal u-turn and headed back the way they had come. For a moment, the only sounds were the swish of the windshield wipers and the growl of the taxi's engine. The driver glanced at him again, brown eyes peering out from beneath shaggy blond bangs. "Soooo... How do you know Seto Kaiba?"

Yami did not bother to hide his surprise. "We're business associates. _You_ know him?"

"We went to high school together - for about a week and a half. We weren't buddies or nothin'." The guy grinned at him in the mirror. "Insultin' each other in the hallways on a more or less daily basis ain't exactly the foundation for a lasting friendship."

"Oh, I don't know." Yami hid his own grin at the thought that the cab driver had rather neatly summed up Yami and Kaiba's relationship. The two of them weren't exactly _friends_. They were more like non-lethal rivals or friendly enemies. _Frenemies_, maybe. Whatever you called two people who would rather snipe at each other than carry on a civil conversation, but still enjoyed each other's company (although they would never admit it to anyone, least of all each other).

The taxi pulled up in front of the impressively ugly Kaiba Corporation office tower with five minutes to spare. Yami paid his fare, throwing in a generous tip which had the cabbie grinning at him through the wire cage separating them. Yami climbed out of the car and raced inside the lobby.

The security guard on duty gave him a dubious look. Yami straightened the remains of his shirt, squared his shoulders, and strode to the reception desk. "I have an appointment with Seto Kaiba."

The receptionist looked as skeptical as the security guard did. Her gaze roved over his exposed collarbone and down to his equally exposed abdomen before retreating back to his face. She raised one perfectly-plucked eyebrow. "...Is that right?"

Yami willed himself not to blush, and lifted his chin just enough so that he was looking down his nose at her. "Yes. My name is Yami."

This time both her eyebrows rose, but her cool expression evaporated as recognition lit her eyes. "Oh! Of course, sir. Go right up! I'll tell Mr. Kaiba you're here."

"Thank you."

With a smirk for the guard, Yami stalked toward the bank of elevators on the other side of the lobby, feeling curious eyes on him every step of the way. He had to fight the urge to reach around and tug at the ragged edge of his shirt when it occurred to him that his back was every bit as exposed as his front. His stomach muscles twitched at the thought, but there was nothing he could do. Straightening his shoulders, he reminded himself that no one who saw the designs covering his back would guess at their true meaning. Most people would assume that he had gotten the... _tattoos_... for aesthetic reasons, not that they had been forced upon him in accordance with the backward beliefs of his family.

He shook off the unpleasant memories and turned his mind to the matter at hand. Kaiba Corporation. Contracts. He had beaten Kaiba in their last tournament match-up and Kaiba, ever the savvy businessman, wanted to snap up Yami's endorsements for his latest product, a portable dueling system called the Duel Disk Mark 2.

Before his defeat, Kaiba had been the reigning Duel Monsters world champion, and had been the spokesman for his company's gaming products. With Yami not only the current holder of Kaiba's former title, but well on his way to garnering the title "King of Games" in the last leg of the world tournament sponsored by rival company Industrial Illusions, Kaiba had made certain Yami knew Kaiba Corporation wanted him. Not that Kaiba was going to be pleasant about it. That was one of the first things Yami had learned about dealing with the Kaiba Corp CEO: Seto Kaiba was many things, but "pleasant" was not one of them. Oddly enough, it had not stopped them from developing a sort of snarky camaraderie in spite of the fact that they rarely saw each other outside the dueling arena.

Yami stepped off the elevator on the executive level and nodded to the young man seated behind the desk outside Kaiba's office. The executive assistant, the guardian at the portal, glanced up at Yami from the computer in front of him on the desk. Then the executive assistant's eyes went wide as he took in Yami's torn and, consequently, rather skimpy attire. Yami swallowed a sigh and resisted the urge to either roll his eyes or cross his arms protectively over his bare stomach. Instead, he summoned up his most haughty stance and faced down the guardian of the portal with all the bravado he could muster.

"Tell Kaiba I'm here. He's expecting me."

Without taking his eyes off Yami, the executive assistant fumbled for the intercom, flipping over his pencil caddy and scattering pencils and pens in all directions before his hand located the appropriate spot on his desk. "Uh, Mr. Kaiba? T-there's a... person... here to s-see you."

"It's about damn time! Send him in."

A helpless frown twisting his mouth, the executive assistant simply stared. Yami smirked.

"Well?" Kaiba's growl came through loud and clear over the still-active intercom. "What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? Get in here, Yami!"

With a wink for the stunned assistant, Yami strode past the man's desk and through the massive double-doors into Kaiba's office.

Seated before the impressive floor to ceiling windows that formed one wall of the office, Kaiba looked up from his work to glare through his stylishly-too-long bangs at Yami as he sauntered into the room. "Took you long enough. What were you doing, sightseeing?"

"I told you, my flight was delayed." Without waiting for an invitation, Yami sank down onto the black leather sofa and allowed his shoulders to slump just a bit. Damn, he was tired. "Can we hurry up and get this over with? I have to go shopping for-"

"You think a trip to the mall is more important than your contract with Kaiba Corporation?" Kaiba interrupted him, icy blue eyes narrowing. Then he got a good look at Yami, and they flew wide again. "What the hell are you _wearing_?"

Yami gave in to impulse and buried his face in one hand for a second. Straightening, he raked his fingers through his bangs, and then glared at Kaiba, who was glowering at him as if Yami had donned the torn and tattered top purely to offend him. To be fair, Yami occasionally did outrageous things just to annoy Kaiba, but humiliating himself wasn't one of them.

"It was a perfectly acceptable shirt when I left Toronto. It's not my fault that someone informed my fans that I would be arriving in Domino City ahead of the announced tournament schedule." Yami glanced down at his ragged shirt and shook his head. "I'm lucky they only managed to tear off most of my shirt. I think some of them were going for skin."

Kaiba looked as if he might say something, but changed his mind. His jaw worked for a moment, his mouth twitched, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. Yami's own eyes narrowed. Oh, _hell_ no.

He pointed a finger in warning. "Laugh at me and die, Kaiba."

The CEO made a muffled noise through clenched teeth. It sounded suspiciously like a suppressed snicker. Yami leaped to his feet in an instant, one arm thrust out to stab a threatening finger at the other man. "I mean it! So much as crack a smile and I'm out of here. I'll drop Kaiba Corp so hard they'll feel the impact in Tokyo, and go straight to Industrial Illusions. Pegasus has been practically begging me to become the official spokesman for _his_ company and, frankly-"

Holding up both hands in the universal _I surrender_ gesture, Kaiba rearranged his expression into something marginally less incriminating. "Fans, you say? Well, at least that means your popularity hasn't fallen off since the last tournament. Although, I suppose that means you'll want to up your already ridiculously inflated endorsement deal."

Yami snorted. "I know better than to renegotiate anything, including lunch, with you without a full contingent of lawyers present."

"Ah, I see I've taught you too well, young Padawan." That icy blue gaze raked over Yami again. "Maybe our next lesson should involve proper business attire..."

Folding his arms over his chest and lowering his chin, Yami glowered at Kaiba through his bangs. "I _told_ you I need to go shopping. I can't walk around looking like _this_-" He spread his arms to display his torn clothing. "-all damn day!"

"Why didn't you just change clothes before coming here?"

"Because I don't have any clothes to change into_,_ thanks to the fucking _airline_ that not only can't run their planes on fucking _schedule_ but also sent my fucking _luggage_ on an unplanned holiday flight to fucking _Honolulu_!"

Kaiba's mouth twitched again, more obviously this time. He flattened his lips together, holding back a very visible guffaw.

Yami deflated onto the couch and buried his head in both of his hands. "...I hate you."

"Ditto. Now stop pouting and come sign these contracts before I come to my senses and hire a duelist with better fashion sense and a normal name to go on the contracts."

Giving in to impulse, Yami stuck his tongue out at Kaiba. And then signed the contract.

-o0o-

Yugi caught himself just before he face-planted into his second hamburger. He jerked upright in his seat and resumed chewing, shooting a quick peek at his grandfather to see if the older man had noticed Yugi's flagging energy.

He had. Solomon shook his head as he shooed Yugi away from the counter. "Go take a nap before you pass out in your food and get a french fry jammed up your nose."

"But... What about my shift?" Yugi protested halfheartedly around a yawn.

Solomon scoffed. "We aren't exactly swamped with customers this afternoon. Go on. I know you haven't been sleeping well. Maybe you should tell Ryou you have to take a few days off? I don't want you running yourself into the ground, even to help out a friend."

"Ryou needs me, Grandpa." Already sliding from his stool and using one hand on the countertop to keep himself from tipping over, Yugi blinked in slow motion. His eyelids felt as if they were made of lead. "You're right, though. I _could_ use a nap. Thanks. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

"Take as long as you need. I'll hold down the fort." Solomon gave him a gentle shove toward the door at the back of the store. "Now, go lie down before you fall down and I have to try to carry you upstairs. Take pity on an old man's back. You aren't five anymore, you know."

"I'm going, I'm going!" Grinning, Yugi shuffled toward the door that led up into the family apartment. Around a yawn, he added, "G'night, Grandpa."

"It's still daylight, boy."

Yugi glanced back and did the "slow blink" thing again. His brain seemed filled with fog, making it hard to figure out what his grandpa was talking about. "Huh?"

Chuckling, Solomon shook his head and, in a kind voice, said, "Never mind, Yugi. Sleep well."

"'kay."

Once upstairs, Yugi pulled back the covers on his twin-sized bed and crawled between the warm flannel sheets. He was so tired that not even the dread of his nightmares could keep him awake any longer. He was sound asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

-o0o-

Kaiba loaned Yami the use of a car and driver to take him to his hotel. Unfortunately, Kaiba did not offer him an intact shirt, and Yami was too proud to ask. He thought about making a quick stop at a men's clothing store along the way, but the rain that continued to pour down made the idea of running around without either a decent shirt or an umbrella a daunting and unpleasant prospect. Deciding that he would buy some new clothes and the few other things he would need after checking into the hotel, he thanked the driver and stalked into the lobby...

...Where he found that they had made his reservations for the _following_ week, rather than this one. Which meant he did not have a room to sleep in. And, with hotels filling up from both the upcoming Duel Monsters tournament and an anime convention taking place that weekend, finding a room anywhere in downtown Domino was going to be next to impossible.

The hotel manager apologized profusely for the error and promised to call around to see if she could make alternate arrangements. Yami, shivering slightly in his torn-off tee and beginning to feel the effects of the worst day he had had in a very long time (in fact, quite possibly the worst day he'd had since leaving his family's home in Egypt), clenched his jaw and sternly reminded himself that the manager was just doing her job. He thanked her for her help and ducked into the small, upscale bar tucked into a corner of the lobby for a fortifying drink before venturing out again into the cold rain.

When he climbed into the taxi the doorman had summoned for him, he was startled by the driver's exuberant greeting. "Hey! I wasn't expectin' to see you again so soon. Your meeting with Mr. Moneybags go all right?"

Shoving his rain-dampened bangs out of his eyes, Yami shot a surprised look at the cabbie. It took him a moment to realize that this was the same young man who had driven him from the airport to the Kaiba Corporation offices earlier. "Oh. Hello."

"Yeah, hi. How ya doin'?" The blond driver squinted at his reflection in the rear view mirror. "Man, you're lookin' a little worse for wear, if ya don't mind me sayin'. You kinda look like you're having a craptastic day."

"Like you wouldn't believe." Yami slumped against the back of his seat, the shock of cold vinyl against his bare lower back reminding him of the reason for his errand. "Can you take me to a men's clothing store? Or maybe a department store would be better. I have to get a few things for tonight... assuming the hotel manager actually finds me a place to stay and I don't end up sleeping in a cardboard box in an alley somewhere." The way his luck was going, he wouldn't even be able to find a cardboard box. Or a vacant alley.

The cabbie gave him a knowing look. "Let me guess. Airline lost your luggage and the hotel screwed up your reservations."

"Give the man a cigar."

"Of course, that don't explain why your shirt looks like you got caught in a wood-chipper, but I figure I'm probably better off not askin'." The slight smile warming his eyes took any sting out of the words. "So. You need someplace where you can get in and out fast, and then a room for the night. Right?"

"Yes. _Please_."

The cab driver grinned. "No problem."

Famous last words.

-o0o-

Yugi rested fitfully on his bed. Beneath closed lids, his eyes moved with the staccato motions of REM sleep. His body was paralyzed, unable to flee the torment he sensed approaching. He panted, a thin whine leaking from his throat, but there was no escaping the nightmare.

_He strained his eyes against the darkness and listened to the man's footsteps come ever closer to where he lay, restrained and helpless. Hard, calloused hands gripped his limbs, and he screamed as the first red-hot knife pierced the skin on his back..._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The first thing Yami did upon entering the department store was to seek out the men's clothing section and purchase an intact, long-sleeved pullover. He paid for the shirt, had the sales clerk remove the tags, then ducked into a changing room.

Turning as he pulled the ruined shirt over his head, he caught a glimpse of his back in the full-length mirror on the cubicle wall. The intricate design - a winged sun disk across his shoulders, columns of hieroglyphic writing along both sides of his spine, bordered by papyrus stalks perched on rope-ring _shen_ glyphs (symbolizing eternal protection), guarding the spell written on his lower back - made him shiver.

It was not a tattoo. The markings had been carved into his back with heated knives, and then dark ink and ashes had been scrubbed into the wounds to make the scars stand out more once they healed. He could still remember his uncles holding him down on the ritual stone, a cloth-wrapped stick shoved into his mouth to stifle his cries, as he strained against their hold. He could feel their fingers biting into his limbs until his bones ground together, hear his muffled screams as the hot metal blade sliced into the tender flesh of his back. The blood from each new cut burned like acid as it washed over the previous wounds, red streamers pouring from his back to pool beneath him so that he thought he would choke on the smell of copper and heated metal, and the stench of his own burning flesh.

It was his fourteenth birthday.

The ritual had marked his coming of age as it had marked his back, marked him as the future leader of his family and all who followed them. It had also marked the day he began plotting in earnest to run away from home, to escape the stifling chains of responsibility that manacled him to the hidden city of the Tombkeepers.

A year later, he had solved the Millennium Puzzle and inextricably bound himself to it, and to the underground city, as a Guardian of the Seal. That was also when the dreams started, and the growing conviction that there was something waiting for him _out there_, somewhere far beyond the limited confines of their desert enclave. He knew, then, that he had to get away, from his family and from Egypt. To stay would mean his slow death, stifled beneath the weight of centuries of tradition and stagnation, and the expectations of his family.

All of which, by a series of fortuitous events and near-catastrophes, had eventually led him to Domino City.

On his way out of the dressing room, Yami tossed the ripped t-shirt into the trash bin and smoothed the new shirt firmly into place, finally able to relax now that the scars on his back were covered.

With one worry out of the way, he made good time, moving quickly through the clothing racks and grabbing a few essentials like socks and underwear, and a couple of changes of clothes. He would shop for more later if it became necessary, but for now he was hanging onto the hope that the stupid airline would actually recover his luggage. If they got it back to him before separation from the Puzzle plunged him into a coma, all the better. If not... Well, then he really wouldn't care about his wardrobe, would he?

On his way past a display rack, he snagged an umbrella in case the rain hadn't let up by the time he had finished his shopping. Another thought struck him and he made a detour through the accessories aisle to pick up a few more items, including a pair of wrap-around sunglasses, a felt hat large enough to sock down over his hair, and a bandanna that could be tied around said hair to help further disguise it. (When he was dueling, or performing his role as a spokesperson for his various employers, he wanted to be recognized. The rest of the time? Not so much.)

Still moving as quickly as he could, since he really wanted to get out of the store before someone spotted him, he shifted departments so that he could pick up disposable razors, assorted toiletries, and a shampoo especially formulated for color-treated hair. His current dye job (brighter red than his natural auburn on the majority of his hair and sunny gold on the bangs and some of the sections he gelled up into spikes) should be good for at least another month provided he didn't use any harsh detergents on it.

His hair called attention to him, but it had also gotten him his first endorsement deal, right after he had won his second major tournament in a row and people started taking notice of the newcomer from nowhere. The checks from his deal with Hot Tropix Hair Care had allowed him to concentrate on improving his dueling skills rather than wondering over where his next meal was coming from. Before the endorsement deal, he had made a little money doing odd jobs to support himself, but the income was not regular.

Back in those early days after his escape from Egypt, he had to keep moving around to prevent his family from tracking him down. Now, he was well enough known that any sudden disappearance would be news. He did not think his family would risk exposure by trying to kidnap him and drag him back home. Besides, they had to know that he would simply flee again. It had taken him three tries before he made a clean getaway the first time. He would not simply give up and become what they wanted him to be now, not after having such a heady taste of freedom.

He made it all the way to the check out lane before someone recognized him. He saw the girl, standing in line in the next lane over, glance at him. Saw the double-take a second later. Saw her lean over and whisper something frantically into her friend's ear, all the while waving a not very subtle hand in his direction.

Yami's heart sank. Keeping one eye on the girls, who were still carrying on a whispered conversation (or possibly _argument_, judging by the increasingly dramatic gestures, furrowed brows, and the rising volume of their "whispering"), he smiled his most charming smile at the cashier, an older woman with worn features and faded blue eyes.

"I think I'm about to have to make a run for it, but I promise I'm not abandoning my purchases. If you could finish ringing them up and then hold them here for a few minutes, I will send someone right back in to pay for them and pick them up. Here..." He placed a fifty on the counter between them. "A down payment."

"Sir, I really don't think I can-"

"I'm telling you it _is_ him!" the first girl shrieked, stabbing a finger through the air in his direction. "It's that gamer guy - Yami!"

All heads in the immediate vicinity swiveled to get a look at the 'gamer guy'. Yami felt all the blood drain from his face. _Oh, shit_. He shoved the money at the cashier. "Honestly, someone will be right in. Gotta run!"

Without waiting for a reply, he bolted for the exit. His sudden flight startled the fangirls long enough to give him a head start and he hit the glass doors at a full run. He did not slow down once he reached the parking lot, but sprinted along the concrete walk in front of the department store, his desperate gaze searching the crowded lot for the cab his driver had promised would be waiting. A glimpse of the bright red and black check of Domino City Cab's livery caught his eye and he aimed in that direction. Sure enough, it was his cab. He flung open the rear door and dove inside, flattening himself across the seat and wondering if he could curl up small enough to hide in the well between the rear bench and the front seat of the cab.

"Uh, you okay back there, man?" The cabbie craned his neck to peer down at him through the mesh barrier.

"Fangirls," Yami gasped out, still trying to catch his breath from his run. "I don't suppose you have a blanket or a coat that I could hide under?"

The cabbie just stared at him for a long moment. Then he laughed, with what sounded like a mixture of disbelief and delight. "You a celebrity or somethin'?"

"Or something." Yami crouched low, then risked a quick peek out the window. If the girls had followed him, they apparently had not seen him duck into the cab. "Look, I need you to go back into the store and pay for my stuff. I had to abandon it on the check-out counter."

"Dude. Are you serious? You really got fans that, like, chase you around and stuff?"

"_Yes_."

"Awesome!"

"Not really." Yami closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep, steadying breath, and reminded himself that yelling at someone is never the best way to get them to do you a favor. "Please. Just take the money I'll give you, go in and pay for my purchases, and then get me the hell out of here. Okay? I will tip you very, _very_ well."

"Can't argue with that, and you really did give me a good tip last time. So..." He opened the slot in the barrier and stuck his hand through, wiggling his fingers. "Fork over the moolah and I'll go get your stuff for ya."

"Thank you." Yami passed the driver a handful of large bills, told him which check-out lane he had used, and then ducked back down out of sight as the driver climbed out of the cab. Surprisingly enough, he actually _could_ fit in the cramped floor well between the seats.

Yami heard the trunk open. What was the guy doing? They couldn't hang around here much longer and still hope no one would spot him, even if he _was_ hiding in the floor of the cab. Then the door opposite him opened a crack and the driver tossed a musty-smelling, army surplus blanket over him.

"There ya go. Keep outta sight for a couple a minutes, okay? I'll be right back." He slammed the door shut. Yami could hear the cabbie whistling a jaunty tune as he sauntered toward the store.

With no other option, Yami huddled under the scratchy wool and thought longingly of obscurity.

-o0o-

The cabbie was snickering when he returned to the car, his arms full of Yami's packages. He shoved them in the back seat along with Yami, who had gotten a leg cramp and been forced out of his hiding spot in the foot well, then climbed into the front and started the engine. "All right. Where to now, buddy?"

"Head back toward the hotel. I'll give them a call and see if the manager has found me a room." Yami dug out his cell phone and dialed the Excellence Suites. The manager was apologetic, but informed him that none of their rooms had opened up. They had, however, located a cancellation in another hotel, if he was interested. Of course, he was interested! He was about ready to fall asleep on his feet, as the day he was having had not only started too early and lasted too long, but seemed to be actively sucking the will to live right out of him.

Resisting the urge to shout all of that into the phone, Yami said, "_Yes_, I'm interested. Where is it?"

The manager gave him the name of the hotel and then hung up with suspicious alacrity. Yami gave the phone a fish-eyed stare.

"They find a room for ya?" asked the cabbie, who had been casting glances at him in the rear view mirror every few seconds. Yami wished he would stop doing that and just watch the road. The last thing he needed to cap off his horrible, no good, very bad day was to be involved in an automobile accident.

"Yes. At the Palazzo."

The cabbie's brown eyes went wide. "Oh."

Yami's eyes narrowed. "Something wrong with the Palazzo?"

"Noooo..." The cabbie shrugged. "I mean, it's a good hotel - clean rooms, good service. My sister works there. No, the problem is, uh, that's where the anime convention is being held this weekend. And, y'know, it's Friday, so there are a lot of convention-goers there already..."

Yami was going to sue that hotel - from the malignant manager all the way up to the president of the chain - for emotional damages. Right after he got out of therapy for the mental anguish the airline had inflicted on him. Yami massaged his aching forehead, and then peered around his hand at the cabby's reflection in the rear view mirror. "Can you just, uh, drive around for a few minutes while I try to find another hotel?"

"Yeah, sure." The cab driver gave him a sympathetic look. "No problem."

Fifteen frustrated minutes with the search app on his smart-phone later, Yami was forced to admit defeat. There really _were_ no other available hotel rooms anywhere in Domino City. _Dammit_. Conceding defeat, he slumped back into the seat and ordered the cabbie to take him to the Palazzo.

The Palazzo turned out to be almost directly across from the Excellence Suites. There were costumed people wandering into the lobby from the street outside, and Yami could just imagine what the inside of the hotel would look (and sound) like. On the bright side, people were far less likely to notice him or, if they _did_ notice him, far more likely to assume he was merely another fan dressed like his favorite duelist.

Just to be on the safe side, however, he dug out the bandana and dark glasses, putting on the sunglasses and tying the bandana over his hair before starting to get out of the cab. He checked outside through the window before opening the door - and froze. He thought he recognized the two men walking into the hotel across the street. A closer look proved that - despite the fact that they were both dressed in Western-style clothing and that one of them, the shorter of the pair, had dyed his wild mop of hair platinum blond - they were indeed who he had thought they were.

"Oh, _shit_."

"More fangirls?"

"Worse." Yami grabbed his new hat and crammed it down on top of his head over the bandana. "_My brothers._"

-o0o-

Yami made it into the Palazzo without incident. He had waited in the taxi, watching the Excellence Suites front entrance like a hawk until he was certain his brothers were not going to reappear without warning, and then dashed into the lobby of his own hotel. Check in went smoothly and soon he had tossed the shopping bags containing his new purchases onto the overstuffed sofa and collapsed, flat on his back with his arms and legs splayed out in every direction, onto the queen-sized bed where he stared up at the white swirls in the ceiling plaster and pondered what he had seen.

_What the hell were Malik and Rashid doing in Domino City?_

His brothers had gone into the hotel where he had been supposed to have reservations - where, if the hotel had not screwed up, he would have been staying. Coincidence? Or were they looking for him?

He could not imagine anything else that could have brought his brothers to Domino City. They had to be hunting him. He had successfully eluded the family's minions for almost six years. A part of him had begun to hope that they had given up and would finally let him live his life as he saw fit without their interference. He should have known better, he supposed. Tradition dictated that the oldest son of the village headman became the new leader upon that man's death or infirmity. Rashid was technically the oldest of the brothers, but he was adopted and tradition demanded the heir must be the son of the headman's body. That meant Yami.

He breathed out a heavy sigh that tried to become a derisive laugh. Even his name was an act of rebellion against tradition. The word was Japanese, chosen on a whim, something he had heard in an animated cartoon show on television. He had not even known what it meant at the time; he had simply liked the sound of it. That, and the fact that it was nothing like the names he had been given by his family.

His private name, the one used on the official genealogical records the family kept for its own use and in the family histories, was never spoken. His public name within the family, and not for use outside the hidden underground complex where they had resided for millennia, was Atem. His brothers each had three names, their private names, family names, and one for use in the outside world. Yami had never actually needed an "outside name". Until he had run away, he had never been allowed outside the walls of the above-ground village that supported their secret city, and even that exposure had been strictly limited.

Once free of the regulated environment his family and tradition had locked him into, Yami had discovered that the outside world was filled with wonders and terrors, riches and deprivation. He would exchange none of it for the gilded prison of the role his family's traditions and the order of his birth ordained for him.

Now, he just had to figure out how to make certain they did not find a way to take him back to the very thing he had run away from and spent the last six years avoiding. It was a long time before he fell into exhausted sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The next morning found Yugi once again at Sweet Temptations, covered in flour and up to his proverbial elbows in cupcakes. Today's featured flavor was tiramisu, which involved scooping out cones from the center of each baked cupcake and filling the hollow with sweetened, creamy mascarpone, then replacing the top, adding a dollop of hazelnut frosting, and dusting the finished cupcake with a fine coating of imported cocoa powder. A dark chocolate curl added the finishing touch. The tiramisu cupcakes were mouth-watering good, and customer favorites. They would sell out quickly, he knew. None of which made assembling the fussy little things go any faster.

Ryou caught him nodding off over the mascarpone he was supposed to be folding into the filling for the second batch, and gave his shoulder a nudge. "We're almost finished with these. Once we're done, what do you say we take a short break for coffee and a freshly baked pastry or two?"

"Sounds great." Yugi bit off a yawn and forced his drooping eyelids to open wider. "Sorry, Ryou. I didn't sleep well last night."

"Again? I'm beginning to get worried about these nightmares of yours." Ryou's brown eyes reflected his concern. "Was it the same one as last time?"

Yugi nodded. "The one with the knives." He shuddered. "It was so real I had to check in the mirror when I woke up, just to convince myself no one had carved up my back while I was asleep."

"It must be terrible... Have you considered seeing a doctor?"

"I dunno. Maybe. I'd really like to get an uninterrupted night's rest." As if to underscore the point, Yugi yawned again.

"Oh, my. Well... I wish there was something I could do to help."

"Thanks, Ryou. I'm sure I'll be fine, though." Yugi shrugged again. How did you go about conquering bad dreams? He had tried practicing relaxation techniques, meditation, thinking good thoughts, warm milk before bed... So far, nothing had worked. He knew he would have to think of something soon, though. The lack of restful sleep was definitely beginning to take its toll. He had tried artificial sleeping aids exactly once. The pills had let him sleep all right, but they had made it almost impossible for him to wake up out of the dreams once they had hold of him. The experience was one he was in no hurry to repeat.

Working side by side, they quickly finished up the morning's baking. The kitchen - indeed, the entire bakery, including the little café area in the front - was redolent with the warm scents of fresh bread, vanilla, and sugar, as well as the darker sweetness of chocolate and the spice of cinnamon. Yugi took a deep, appreciative breath as he settled at one of the small round café tables with a huge cup of hot coffee and a danish. They still had a few minutes before the shop would officially open for the day. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply of the aromatic steam wafting up from his coffee cup, and enjoyed the stillness.

Which was broken a second later by an insistent rapping at the front door. Yugi groaned into his coffee, shoved his chair back from the table, and trekked over to the door, where he peered out the window at the street outside. And grinned.

"Ryou!" he called to his friend, who was just coming out of the kitchen with his hands full of piping hot danish, fresh from the oven. "It's your stalker."

Ryou froze, his brown eyes widening. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Nope." Yugi lifted the edge of the window shade and took another look. Beneath a curtain of wild white hair, hopeful gray eyes met his gaze. The "stalker" made broad pantomime gestures indicating that he would like it very much if Yugi opened the door and let him in. "I think he wants to come inside."

"Don't you dare!" Ryou practically teleported to his side, snatching at Yugi's hand and halting it in the act of reaching for the door knob. "He'll just sit at the table nearest the counter and growl at anyone who dares speak to me!"

"Oh, come on. It's cute. He really likes you."

A rosy sheen graced Ryou's cheeks. He stared at the toes of his shoes for a moment, and then looked back up through his bangs. "I know. It's just that he has a strange way of showing it."

"Ryou!" The voice calling through the keyhole was gruff, but not unpleasant. "I know you're in there. Let me in! I have something for you."

Yugi looked a question at his friend. After a moment during which he chewed indecisively on his lower lip, Ryou nodded. Yugi opened the door.

A lanky figure dashed inside as if afraid they would change their minds and lock him out again if he did not get inside quickly enough. He was tall, with a slender build beneath his faded jeans and long-sleeved shirt. His hair was as light as Ryou's, though longer, and looked as if he had forgotten to comb it, or perhaps lost the comb somewhere in its jutting layers. Sharp, handsome features and cunning gray eyes completed the picture. He had one hand tucked behind his back.

Ryou eyed him with a wariness borne of long experience. "Um... Hullo, Bakheru. I, er, trust this morning finds you well?"

"What?" Bakheru blinked startled gray eyes at him before realization apparently dawned. "Oh. Small talk. Yeah, I was never much good at that. Let's skip it, shall we? Here." He thrust whatever it was that he had been hiding behind his back at Ryou. "I hope you like it."

"Um." Ryou stared down at the box in Bakheru's outstretched hand. He seemed to be waiting nervously for it to do something, perhaps explode or sprout a festive assortment of vipers. "Thank you?"

"Just take it already." Bakheru frowned at him. "It isn't going to bite you."

"Oh. Well, if you're quite sure..."

"Of course I'm sure! I wrapped the thing, didn't I?"

Looking at the box, Yugi was certain Bakheru _had_ wrapped it. The paper, though an attractive shade of blue, was torn at one corner and bore the signs of having been on the losing end of a battle with a determined gift wrapper and a roll of tape with a bad attitude. When he finished studying the messily wrapped present and looked up, he found the other two still frozen in their previous positions: Bakheru with his arm outstretched, offering the box to Ryou; Ryou with his hands limp at his sides, his gaze locked on the box between them.

Yugi sighed. "I'm sure it's fine, Ryou. Why don't you and Bakheru sit down, and I'll bring you both some fresh coffee."

"That's what I like about you, Mutou," Bakheru said as he used his free hand to take an unresisting Ryou by the elbow and steer him toward the indicated café table. "You know when to make yourself scarce."

Yugi laughed and went to fetch the coffee.

When he came back, Ryou had finally snapped out of his daze and was gingerly tearing the paper off the box, which was sitting on the table in front of him. He got the lid off and peered inside. His eyes went wide at the sight of the clear plastic bags of white powder nestled in pale blue tissue paper.

Yugi felt his mouth drop open. "Bakheru! You're giving Ryou-"

"Flowers." Bakheru looked quite pleased with himself until he glanced up again and caught their twin expressions of disbelief. Obviously puzzled by their stunned reactions, he added a defensive, "..._What_?"

"Those aren't... that isn't... Um. I mean to say, you...Oh, dear." Ryou wound down, still staring at the little bags - each of which probably held at least two pounds of the white substance - and surrendered with a helpless little shrug, obviously not able to articulate the extent of his confusion. "..._Flowers?_"

"Yes." Bakheru shook his head. "What's wrong with you two? Ryou's a baker. I thought he might like a sampling of some gourmet flours to try."

Both Yugi and Ryou puffed out enormous sighs of relief. "Oh, _flours_." Ryou brightened. "Yes. That's... very thoughtful of you, actually. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Bakheru grinned the smug grin of one who was vastly pleased with himself and sipped delicately from the coffee cup Yugi set in front of him. "Now. What's on today's menu?"

-o0o-

Yami crept through the crowded halls of his hotel, trying to look inconspicuous. Normally, he did not worry so much about it, but being surrounded by people for whom the gaming world was of major interest meant the chances of someone recognizing him were much greater than if he were in a crowd of average Joes. He passed a man in a long white coat accessorized with both a sword and a red wig pulled back in a thick braid that fell down his back almost to his waist; a woman with large white wings strapped to her back; and dodged around a trio of cosplayers dressed as living Tetris blocks.

He had almost made it to the lobby when he zigged when he should have zagged and collided with a teen-aged boy dressed in a purple leotard, tabard, and oversized purple shoulder pads and helmet. The helmet fell down over the kid's eyes and he lost his grip on his aquamarine staff. Without thinking, Yami reached down and retrieved it for him.

"Sorry," the kid said. "Didn't see you there. This thing keeps-" He shoved the helmet back from his face and stared at Yami. "Whoa. You're... you're..."

"No, I'm not!" Yami waved his hands frantically, trying to shush the kid before he could blurt out Yami's identity in the crowded lobby. He darted a look around, but no one appeared to have noticed them. "Really, I-"

"_Awesome_ costume, dude," the kid continued, oblivious to Yami's distress. "You look just like him!"

Huh? The kid thought Yami was cosplaying... as himself? Weak with relief, Yami said,"...Thanks?"

"Sweet." The kid laughed. "We should get some pics together later. You know? The famous duelist and his favorite Duel Monster!"

"Sure. Later." Yami edged around him, aiming for the revolving doors now only a few feet away. "Uh, your costume is great, too. Gotta run, though. Have fun!"

"Sure, dude. Catch ya later!"

Breathing a sigh of relief, Yami made good his escape, hitting the doors at a fast clip and sliding out into the cool morning of his second day in Domino City. He wasted no time in slipping on his dark glasses and striding up the sidewalk, his gaze taking in everything around him. A part of his concentration was devoted to reading the signs on the shops that lined the street, but another, greater part of it was keeping a lookout for any hint of his brothers. He hadn't wanted to remain in the hotel for fear of being recognized by possible fans, but now that he was out here on the street, he feared being spotted by his family or one of their loyal retainers.

He could feel the headache starting again behind his eyes. He raised a hand and rubbed at his brow, willing the ache to go away. Part of it was stress, and the fact that he had taxed his physical reserves with so many major tournaments so close together. Part of it was the fact that he didn't sleep well most nights, his rest plagued by dreams of being dragged back home against his will by amorphous, shadowy shapes with his father's voice. But he knew that the biggest reason his head was beginning to feel like the lead anvil in the _Anvil Chorus_ was that he had been separated from the damned Millennium Puzzle for too long.

Once a chosen Guardian bonded with his Item (and it was the Item that did the choosing, not the person), he or she had no option but to keep it near them at all times. He suspected that this was so a Guardian could never shirk his or her duties to their Item. He had certainly been tempted more than once to chuck his Puzzle into the Nile or bury it in the desert sands. But he couldn't, because his bond made him dependent on the damned thing's presence. The hand he pressed to his brow trembled slightly. Damn that fucking airline! They had better find his luggage soon or he would _really_ be in a bad way.

His stomach growled, reminding him there could be another, more mundane reason he felt like crap: he hadn't eaten since last night. He lowered his hand and looked around. He was standing only a few doors down from what the sign over the awning promised was a store-front bakery. The door to the bakery opened to permit a customer to enter, releasing the mouthwatering scent of freshly baked cakes and breads. His stomach growled again, louder than before, informing him it wouldn't be averse to a fresh muffin or two. Nor would it object to hot coffee in large quantities, _pronto_.

Yami nodded to himself and headed with alacrity toward the source of that delicious aroma of mingled sugar and cinnamon, vanilla, hot bread, and other things that made him wonder if his nose had died and gone to olfactory heaven.

Maybe his luck was finally taking a turn for the better.

* * *

I've been terribly sick (still am) and totally blanked on posting anything last week. Sorry. Real Life (tm) still sucks: my twenty-something daughter is currently living on my sofa since she and her husband separated, which means I'm all about the stress and turmoil (and custody battles) and very little about the writing. Reviews are much appreciated. If you've recently reviewed one of my stories and I haven't replied, it's because things are crazy here right now. Please know that I read every review and they do make a difference. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The bell over the bakery door jingled as Yami stepped inside. A few people glanced his way, but no one squealed or attempted to pounce on him, so he figured he was safe, at least for the moment. He bought a large Styrofoam cup of coffee and, on a whim, a chocolate and cinnamon cupcake with hazelnut frosting dusted with more ground cinnamon. When he looked around for a place to sit and eat his breakfast, he discovered to his dismay that all the small café tables were occupied by at least one customer. Yami frowned. He really did not want to brave the street again just yet. Besides, if he was spotted, he would end up having to drop his treats while he made a run for it, and he hated to be wasteful.

He was standing there debating what to do when someone nudged his side with an elbow. Startled from his musings, Yami jerked his head around - and found himself staring at the shit-eating grin on the face of his blond cab driver. The blond had his hands full of cupcakes.

"Yo, good to see you're still in one piece." The blond's grin widened. "I was worried about ya without me there to pull your rear end outta the fire."

Yami snorted, amused in spite of himself. "Somehow, I managed to muddle along on my own."

"Yeah, I figured you would." He glanced around the crowded shop. "It's always like this in the mornings. So, you wanna share a table with me and my buddies?"

"You don't mind?"

"Wouldn't have asked you, if I did. Come on, I'll introduce you."

They made their way over to the cab driver's table, where two young men were already sitting with coffee and pastries of their own on the table in front of them. The blond cab driver plopped his treats down on in the center of the small table and dropped onto one of the wrought iron chairs. "Shove over, guys. I brought a friend."

Gingerly, Yami settled in the one remaining chair and carefully placed his own breakfast on the table. The cab driver paused in the act of removing the paper cup from one of his cupcakes - this one was bright green with fluffy, green-speckled frosting topped with a single pomegranate aril - and said, "Guys, this is the dude I was telling ya about from yesterday." He cut his eyes at Yami. "I know you don't want me yelling out your name where everybody can hear it, so... What should we call you?"

Yami had not considered that aspect. He did not want to use his real name - and, frankly, after almost six years of being known exclusively as 'Yami' it was difficult to think of himself in any other way. "Yami is fine. Just... keep your voices down."

"You got it." The blond nodded. "I'm Joey, by the way. Jumpin' Joey Wheeler, at your service!" He flashed a victory sign before continuing with the introductions. He pointed with his cupcake toward the brown-haired young man across the table. "The lug in the uniform is my good buddy, Tristan Taylor."

Tristan wore a dark blue policeman's uniform, every seam neat and crisp. He reached across the table to shake Yami's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Same here."

"And this is Bakheru. He stalks the guy who runs this place, so he's more like part of the scenery than an actual friend, but you get used to him. Eventually," Joey added, waving his free hand at the final person seated at their table. He raised his cupcake and took a huge bite, managing to get most of the cake into his mouth in one go. Instantly, his face contorted into an expression of exaggerated bliss. "_Mmmmm_. _Gooooood cupcake_."

"And that's the last coherent thing we'll get out of him for awhile," Tristan said, digging back into his own plate of tiny blueberry muffins.

Bakheru snorted. "Since when has Wheeler ever been 'coherent'?"

Yami lifted his coffee cup and studied Bakheru over the rim. There was something familiar about that mop of white-blond hair... And that name! Unless it was just some weird coincidence of language, it sounded like a name that someone from his village might have. But that was crazy. What would someone from the Tombkeepers' village be doing in Domino City... unless they were looking for him? His brow furrowed as his thoughts turned dark. Damn it all. Was Bakheru going to try to detain him? Or would he simply report back to Yami's brothers that the prodigal son had been spotted and let the two of _them_ - and whatever thugs they had brought with them - deal with Yami?

Meanwhile, Bakheru was studying Yami in return. Peering covertly from beneath the brim of the hat he had jammed down on his head after leaving the hotel, Yami watched as the other man continued to dart speculative glances at him. He seemed to be trying to figure something out. Maybe Bakheru didn't recognize him? Could he really be so lucky?

Joey finished his first cupcake, and then washed it down with a gulp from his Styrofoam cup, leaving a milk mustache on his upper lip. Seeing it, Tristan shook his head, balled up one of the paper napkins from the communal pile in the center of the table, and lobbed it at Joey's head. "Dude. You're such a slob. Wipe your mouth already!"

"Yes, _Mom_."

Tristan rolled his eyes. "Not even if you paid me a million bucks." He glanced at his wristwatch. "Ugh. Time to roll. See you guys later." He shoved his chair back and got to his feet, collecting his trash to take to the receptacle on his way out. "Nice meeting you, Yami. Enjoy your stay in our fair city."

Joey snorted. "'Fair city'? Man, what was in your muffins this morning? Is the city council paying you to say that stuff?"

"I _wish_."

"It was nice meeting you as well, Tristan," Yami said, with a small smile. The policeman gave them all a parting wave as he headed out the door.

While Joey turned his avid attention back to his remaining cupcakes (each a different color and, presumably, a different flavor to match), Bakheru caught Yami's attention with a sly smirk. A quick glance showed Yami that Joey was in cupcake heaven and wouldn't notice a bomb if it went off in his ear, so it was safe to lean over the table and, eyes narrowed, hiss, "Yes? You have something you want to say to me?"

Bakheru's gray eyes narrowed as well. "_I know who you are_."

It took Yami a moment to realize that the other man had not spoken in English, but in the language of the Tombkeepers' village. In the same tongue, and keeping his voice low, Yami responded, "And just what do you intend to do with this supposed knowledge?"

"Nothing. For the moment."

"Is that a threat?" Yami was getting angry. He wouldn't stand for being blackmailed by this, this... And that's when it hit him. Suddenly, he knew exactly why Bakheru's name sounded so familiar. "_You!_"

It was Bakheru's turn to look anxious. He had apparently not expected _Yami_ to recognize _him_. "What do you mean 'you'?" he demanded, suddenly finding himself on the defensive and obviously unhappy about it.

"I thought your name sounded familiar. You're that priest - the one who turned thief and robbed the Pharaoh's treasure room in the sacred tomb!"

"Keep your voice down, you idiot!"

Yami looked around guiltily. His raised voice had drawn a few curious glances, but he had still been speaking in his native language, so he doubted anyone but Bakheru had understood what he had said. He lowered his voice again. "Looks like we are at an impasse, tomb robber. You may know who I am, but I know who you are - and if you try to hand me over to my brothers, I will return the favor. I'm certain the _medjai_ would love to get their hands on you."

At the mention of the Tombkeepers' private police force, Bakheru blanched. "There's no need to-" His words cut off abruptly as the rest of what Yami had said sunk in. "Wait. Your brothers are _here_? In Domino?"

Yami nodded.

"_Shit_." Bakheru combed both hands through his hair, leaving parts of it spiked up like albino bat wings, and fixed Yami with a glower. "They're looking for you, I suppose."

"Yes. Probably." Yami shrugged. "So far, I've managed to avoid finding out firsthand."

"Great." Bakheru slumped back in his chair. "So, what are we going to do?"

"'We'?"

"Yes, _'we'_. Neither of us wants to go back to Egypt... Am I right?" He waited for Yami's nod before continuing, "And that means we both need to stay away from anyone who might try to take us there by force. So..."

"A truce?"

"Yes. I won't rat you out, and you do the same for me. If worst comes to worst, we... help each other evade your brothers, and anyone else who is working for the Tombkeepers."

"Agreed."

They shook hands on it. Yami reached for his cupcake, but thoughts of his family had soured his appetite. He glanced at Joey, who had been oblivious to the whispered conversation going on right under his nose (which was currently buried in cupcake number three, this one bright pink and topped with a frosting rose) and waved the chocolate-cinnamon cupcake in front of his eyes. Switching back to English, Yami asked, "Hey, Joey? Do you want this?"

Joey paused with a half-masticated bite of pink mush in his partially-opened mouth. Eyes wide, he looked at the offered cupcake, then at Yami, and hastily swallowed. "You sure you don't want it?"

"I'm sure." Yami placed the cupcake in front of the cab driver. "Enjoy. I have to get going."

"Um, okay. Thanks, man."

Yami nodded, then shot a meaningful look at Bakheru. "See you around."

"Not if I see you first," Bakheru grumbled, but he rose to his feet. "I must be going as well. I'll walk out with you."

Joey waved at them both, his attention already drifting back to the cupcakey goodness still to be savored. He lifted the chocolate cinnamon cupcake and inhaled appreciatively, then saluted them with it. "Bye! And, remember, if either of ya needs a ride, you know who to call!"

The wind had picked up a bit while they were in the bakery, so it was a chilly breeze which greeted the two Egyptians as they exited the shop. Yami shivered and thought longingly of desert heat. Maybe the Millennium Puzzle had not been lost by accident. Maybe it had decided it wanted to go somewhere with a sunnier climate and had influenced the baggage handlers to send it to Hawaii on purpose. And maybe he really should have eaten something, appetite or no, because that was a thought that bordered a bit too closely on lunacy for comfort.

A small sound beside him reminded Yami that he was not alone. He glanced over at the other man, who was striding along beside him. In his native tongue, he snapped, "What do you want, tomb robber?"

Bakheru snorted and reached to flip up the collar of his lightweight jacket. "Oh, is that the way of it? Shall I bow and call you 'Lord Atem'?"

"I'd really rather you didn't."

"Then don't call me tomb robber."

Yami glared at him. "It's what you _are_."

"And you are the Guardian of the Millennium Puzzle - which, I might add, I do not see anywhere upon your illustrious person. What have you done with it?"

"That's none of your business!"

"Touchy, touchy..." Bakheru shrugged nonchalantly, and then shoved his hands back into his jacket pockets. "It's not like I actually _care_, you know. I was merely curious. As a priest, I was taught that the Guardians could not, once they were bonded, venture far from their sacred Items without serious consequences."

As if to remind Yami how true the teachings were, his headache picked that moment to return full force. He frowned at his unwanted companion. "Did you follow me out here just to natter on about the ancient teachings?"

"No, of course not. I merely wanted to be certain we have an understanding."

"We do. While I cannot condone what you did, I have no desire to involve myself in your capture when it would most likely mean my own as well."

_Coward_, Yami's conscience hissed at him. _He stole from the Blessed Dead - even worse, from the Osiris Pharaoh himself! He must face his punishment_.

_Yes_, he countered, _but why must_ I _be the one to see that he does? I am neither medjai nor judge!_

_It is your duty, nonetheless! You must uphold the balance of ma'at_.

"...Yami?"

"I _said_ we have an understanding," Yami growled, pushed to the limit of his fraying patience. "What more do you want from me?"

"Nothing." The tomb robber glared at him. "No, I take that back. I want you to stay away from the bakery. Ryou has enough problems without the ones your presence could bring upon on him."

Yami did not bother asking who Ryou was or why Bakheru cared what happened to him. He simply nodded. He could always find somewhere else to eat breakfast from now on.

"Good. I trust we _won't_ be seeing each other again-" Without waiting for a response, Bakheru turned and stalked off, disappearing into the crowd of pedestrians on the sidewalk.

Yami stood and stared after him for a long moment, wishing he could believe it was true.

-o0o-

Yugi brought out another tray of green-tea-and-pomegranate, red velvet, and rosewater cupcakes to refill the display case just in time to see Bakheru leaving heading out the bakery's front door in the company of another man. He hid a grin. Ryou would be both relieved and disappointed. However much he might protest to the contrary, Ryou was actually quite flattered by Bakheru's attentions. The man might be eccentric, and have strange ways of courting the object of his affections, but he genuinely seemed to care about Ryou and that made all the difference.

He straightened from setting the tray in place, and found himself subjected to Joey Wheeler's grin. "Hey, Joey. You still here? I thought you left with Bakheru."

"Nope, that was some other guy. In fact, I was kinda hopin' you'd make it out of the kitchen in time to meet him... He's quite a character. Oh, well. Maybe next time."

"Friend of yours?"

"You could say that. More like an acquaintance, I guess, but we've had some adventures together - and I just met the guy yesterday." Joey laughed. "Maybe I'll stop by the game shop later and tell ya all about it."

"Okay. Come by around closing time and stay for dinner. Grandpa won't mind."

"You got it, pal. See ya later!"

"'Bye, Joey." Yugi waved to his friend as Joey sauntered out the door. He wondered about the man he had seen leaving with Bakheru. He had not gotten more than a glimpse of the other's back, so he had no idea what the guy looked like. He wondered how Joey had met him and what he had meant by 'adventures'.

Yugi gave a little mental shrug, and then turned to help yet another customer make a cupcake selection.

-o0o-

Somewhere inside the noisy and bustling main overseas terminal of Honolulu International Airport, two men carried out a low-voiced argument in a language that would have sounded very familiar to both Yami and Bakheru. The taller man gestured abruptly to the golden ring resting against his chest. The ring, suspended on a slender cord which hung around the man's neck, had five small pendants shaped a bit like pointy plumb-bobs. Each of the pendants had lifted into the air and was straining in the direction of the baggage claim area.

"...and I am telling _you_ that the Millennium Ring is never mistaken. If it says the Millennium Puzzle is here, then the Puzzle is here!"

"Be that as it may, Mahaad, I have seen no sign of Lord Atem in this gods-forsaken place. Have _you_?"

"Well... No."

"Then why do you insist that he is here?"

"The Puzzle is here! Do you truly believe the sacred Item would be here if its Guardian was not?"

"..._Fine_. Where is he, then?"

"I do not know. But we will keep searching until we find him. He must be warned of the danger-"

"Yes, yes. I know. I _agree_." The shorter man sighed. "But, can we at least get something to eat first? It has been many hours since I had that very small bag of peanuts on the airplane, and my stomach feels as if it is attempting to gnaw its way to freedom in order to search for food on its own."

"Very well." Mahaad glanced around the concourse, reading the various signs. His brow furrowed. "Karim... What is a 'hot dog'?"

"I do not know," Karim said, grabbing Mahaad's arm and striding with grim determination toward the food vendor. "But if I bite into it and it does not bite me back, I will eat it."

* * *

Note: Yeah, I know you were expecting Yami and Yugi to meet in this chapter. Surprise? Eh, heh. Anyway, they _will _meet in the next one. Promise! (Still sick, btw. No joy on the other real life messes, either. FML)


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

Yami drifted around town for awhile before he found a relatively quiet spot, where his cell phone had a strong signal, and dialed the airline. The anonymous airline representative with whom he spoke informed him that they were still working on the theory that Yami's suitcases had gone to Honolulu, but that they had not, in fact, located his luggage. Did he want them to keep looking? Yami assured her that he did, indeed, want them to not only look for but to actually _find_ his wayward luggage. The representative assured him that the airline would proceed diligently with their pursuit of that request, and that he should feel free to call back later - the _much later_ was implied - to check on their progress, and, oh, yeah, "have a nice day, sir!" Yami resisted the urge to tell her where to stuff her platitudes, growled an expletive in his native language in lieu of a 'good-bye', and barely refrained from slamming his phone into the nearest wall.

His head throbbed. While he hated the fact that destiny had saddled him with the Puzzle, he was coming to realize that there were worse things in life; namely, that being _separated_ from the damn Puzzle was infinitely worse than being stuck with it. Though he supposed they were part and parcel of the same thing. After all, if he had not been stuck with the Puzzle in the first place, then he would not now be suffering because he had been separated from it.

Pulling his hat down low over his forehead and shoving his sunglasses back into place, he resumed his aimless meandering through the city. He had no destination in mind, so he simply allowed his feet to take whichever path they chose. Despite the chill in the air, he was enjoying his ability to wander as he pleased, and he did so for hours. For once, he did not want to feel as if he had somewhere that he had to be. He was tired of deadlines and rushing to meet them. There would be more than enough of that once the tournament began.

Yami fully intended to win this tournament as he had won the previous two in the series. He wasn't in it for the title. In fact, he thought the title ("King of Games") was a rather silly one. Being the best player of a card game primarily marketed to children was not a world-shaking achievement for an adult, even a fairly young one. But the money awarded along with that silly title would give him a freedom and a security he had only dreamed of. And _that_ was a prize worth fighting to win.

The sky still held traces of yesterday's storm clouds, and, as he walked, he had to dodge the occasional puddle on the sidewalk. The rain had cooled things off, leaving a definite nip in the air that hinted at colder weather to come. An erratic breeze tousled his hair and toyed with his clothes, before snatching the hat right off his head.

Yami made a grab for the delinquent headgear, but the hat eluded his grasp, swooping upward before falling into the middle of the busy street - and directly under the wheels of a city bus. Safe on the sidewalk, Yami could only stand and gape at the felt pancake formerly known as his fedora. And then he heard the sound he had come to dread above all others. The sound of high pitched voices squealing his name.

"_Oh_ my _gawd_, it's Yami! Look, over there - it's _Yami! Yami!_"

_Shit_.

Abandoning his ruined hat, Yami ran for his life.

-o0o-

Yugi had just finished ringing up a customer when the door to the game shop flew open and a frantic figure flung himself inside. The strange man dove behind the first display he came to, crouching down and peering between the shelves as if he expected a team of ninja assassins to come flying through the door and attack him. Both Yugi and his customer stared at the stranger - and then at the horde of squealing teenage girls which galloped by on the street outside, their high-pitched screams clearly audible even through the closed door of the shop.

The customer, an adolescent boy still of an "ick, girl cooties! " age, took the plastic shopping bag filled with his video game purchases from Yugi and sneered, "Girls!" before trotting up the center aisle and out of the store. The bell on the door jangled in his wake. Yugi secured the register, and then went to investigate the mystery man, who was still cowering behind the shelf of role-playing starter sets.

"Um, excuse me," Yugi said and then faltered when the other man jumped so violently that he knocked one of the starter sets off the shelf - and onto his foot. "Oops, sorry! I didn't mean to startle you."

"No problem." The words were gritted out from between clenched teeth as the man bent to retrieve the game and set it back on the shelf with a solid _thunk_. It was a _heavy_ box.

Yugi opened his mouth to say something - either to ask what the man was doing or to apologize again, he wasn't sure - but the man stood to his full height at that point, and Yugi got a good look at his face. His mouth fell open and his lips worked, but no sound came out.

"Oh, please," said the stranger, who looked an awful lot like a certain duelist whose famous face was plastered all over the game shop on promotional posters, magazine covers, and assorted ads. "_Please_ tell me you're not a Duel Monsters fan."

-o0o-

Yami watched as, instead of answering the question, the other guy just reached over and flipped the sign on the door to 'closed', and then locked the door. He turned back to Yami, a tiny smile working at the corners of his mouth, and said, "Come on. Let's get you away from the windows."

_Damn_. So, the guy _did_ recognize him. Frowning, Yami followed the shorter man toward the back of the store. At least there didn't seem to be any other customers in the shop, so he didn't have to worry about someone ambushing him from between the tidy displays.

When he reached the counter at the back of the shop, the shorter guy lifted a portion of the counter top so they could pass through the gap left by its removal.

"If you want to come upstairs, I'll make us some hot tea." The guy motioned toward a door set into the rear wall. "My grandpa and I live in the apartment above the shop."

Yami hesitated. The guy seemed nice enough, but... He shot a glance back at the front of the store, as if he could still see the mob of fans (yeah, okay, so it was more like four or five, but it had _felt_ like a mob) who had been chasing him down the street. He shuddered. "Yeah. That... that sounds okay."

"Great! Come on. You can sit in the kitchen while I make the tea - I mean, if you want to, that is. It's warmer in there. I always like to sit in there myself when the weather starts to turn cold, and I..." The clerk's cheeks flushed bright red. "I'm babbling, aren't I?"

"Just a little."

"Sorry." By then, they had gone through the door and up the stairs on the other side to the homey living space above the store. The kitchen was a cozy galley-style room done in bright, cheerful colors. "Have a seat." The shop clerk gestured to the square breakfast table against one wall, and then moved to assemble the tea things. "Um. I'm Yugi."

"Yami."

"Yeah," a little laugh, muffled when Yugi turned away and bent his head over the tray. "I know. I, uh, recognized you from the posters. You know, for next week's Duel Monsters tournament."

"Right. Of course." Yami took the chair closest to the doorway, and then sat and watched while Yugi prepared two mugs of tea, using a hot water dispenser built into the sink. He brought the steaming mugs to the table and set one in front of Yami. The delicate, floral scent of white tea wafted up to him along with the steam. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Yugi took the opposite chair, near the stove. "So... Why were those girls chasing you?"

It was Yami's turn for his face to flame red. He quickly covered his embarrassment by fussing with his tea, stirring in a spoonful of sugar even though he never drank his tea sweet. "...Fans." His shoulders twitched in an uncomfortable shrug. "You know."

"Oh. Um. That must be really-"

"Annoying? Awkward? Scary?"

"Those, too." Ducking his head, Yugi smiled behind the rim of his mug.

Yami couldn't stop an answering grin. "Yeah."

Some of the tension eased between them after that. The taut set of Yugi's shoulders relaxed a little as he sipped at his tea. "So..."

When he did not do anything more than trail off awkwardly, Yami toyed with his mug, moving it around on the table, and tried to think of a conversation starter. "So..."

Okay, so he didn't have any idea what to talk about, either. He glanced at his watch. "Not to be rude, but do you mind if I make a phone call? I should check with the airline and see if they've finally managed to locate my missing luggage."

Not that Yami had much hope of success. He was convinced that Quality Airlines wouldn't be able to find its collective ass with GPS and a Sherpa guide.

"The airline lost your luggage? That sucks." Yugi made a 'go ahead' gesture with one hand. "I don't mind if you call them. Do they have any idea where it went?"

"Hawaii. In theory, at any rate."

"Wow. That's... nowhere near here."

"Tell me about it."

"You want to use the phone in the living room? I have a telephone directory, if you need one."

"Thanks, but I've got the stupid airline on speed dial on my cell."

Yugi laughed. "Probably a good idea." He rose from the table. "I'll give you some privacy for your call. Just come into the living room, down that way -" He pointed out the appropriate hallway. "-when you're through. Okay?"

"Sure. Thanks."

"No problem."

-o0o-

In something of a daze, Yugi carried his tea into the living room and sank down onto the overstuffed sofa. He still couldn't wrap his brain around the idea that he had a _world famous duelist _in his kitchen. He wished that his grandfather was home. Solomon Mutou was a huge Duel Monsters fan, and to actually meet one of the top-rated duelists in the world would be a huge thrill for him. Yugi cut his eyes toward the kitchen, and then glanced at the phone sitting innocuously on the end table next to the sofa. Would it really be so terrible if he picked up the phone and called his grandpa? Solomon was running errands, but if Yugi told him that _the_ Yami was in their apartment, he'd race home in a heartbeat.

He'd actually reached for the phone before he came to his senses. _Of course,_ he couldn't do that! It'd be one thing if Solomon happened to make it back to the shop in time to meet Yami, but it was an entirely different thing to betray Yami's trust by ratting him out when he was obviously trying to avoid his fans, even if the fan in question happened to be Yugi's grandfather.

Yugi slumped into the sofa, sliding down until he was almost swallowed up by the cushions. He wished that he dared to ask Yami if he could get a picture of him standing in front of the shop. His grandpa was never going to believe that Yugi had met _the_ Yami, not without some kind of evidence.

The man in question strode out of the kitchen, a frustrated expression marring his handsome, angular features. Unearthing himself from the cushions, Yugi scooted over to make room for Yami. "No luck on the luggage?"

"Not really, no." Yami sank gracefully onto the sofa, and then scrubbed one hand over his face. He looked exhausted. "It wouldn't be so bad, but... There's something, an item in one of the suitcases that I really need to have back as soon as possible." He shook his head, squared his shoulders, and managed a faint smile. "They said they were almost positive my luggage was actually at the Honolulu airport. I'm supposed to call back in a couple of hours."

"That's good, right? At least you have some idea where it ended up."

"I suppose so." Yami did not sound convinced, but Yugi thought it was more because he was in some kind of physical discomfort than because he was rejecting Yugi's optimism. There were lines of strain around Yami's eyes and mouth, his lips were almost white where he pressed them together, and his lean body looked like a monument to tension.

"Do you have a headache or something?" Yugi asked, watching his guest closely. Yami's eyes widened in apparent surprise.

"How did you-?"

"I thought so. Would you like some aspirin? Or Tylenol? I think we have some of that, too."

"No. Thank you, but I'll be fine." He didn't sound fine, unless he was using some alternate definition of the word that meant the exact opposite of what Yugi thought 'fine' should mean. His eyelids were drooping even as he spoke, his perfect posture losing its crispness as he sagged deeper into the cushions. "I'm just... I haven't been sleeping well, and I'd hoped to take a few days off before the start of the tournament. But the damned hotel screwed up my booking and forced me to stay at the same hotel where they're holding that convention this weekend, and-"

_Holy crap_. No wonder the poor man looked as if he were on the verge of collapse. And recent experience had taught Yugi all about sleep deprivation and what it could do to a guy. "Can't you find another hotel?"

Yami's chin drooped toward his chest, and his eyes had drifted almost shut. "No other rooms _anywhere_. Looked. 'm stuck there..."

His voice faded along with the last of his resistance. Yugi watched, astonished, as the other man's breathing deepened and his body went boneless as he slid into an exhausted slumber.

Yami - _the_ Yami - was asleep on Yugi Mutou's sofa.

After a few seconds, Yugi's brain jumped back into gear. Yami was obviously beyond tired to have fallen asleep in a total stranger's house, and while not only sitting upright but also fully clothed. So, Yugi decided, he'd let Yami sleep as long as he needed. Careful not to wake him, Yugi went to find a blanket and pillow for his unexpected guest.

* * *

Note: Sorry for not responding to everyone's reviews last chapter. I do appreciate them all! I just haven't had the energy to expend on replying to them _and _also getting this chapter ready to post. I figured you would all rather get to read about Yami and Yugi meeting (finally!) than a barely coherent "thank you", anyway. :) I have about three more chapters pre-written (though they all need edited to remove the NaNoWriMo wordiness and insanity); after that, updates will be sporadic until things get back to what passes for "normal" in my life... .


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Yami dreamed.

A part of him knew that he was dreaming, but there was nothing he could do except go along for the ride. Even though his mind fought against it like a swimmer caught in a treacherous current, the rising tide of nightmare pulled him under...

-o0o-

It was always quiet in the abandoned chapel. Atem crouched in the narrow space between an ancient offering table and the wall as he made a futile effort to calm his frantic, gasping breath and straining to hear over the shouting voice of his heart. He did not think that anyone had seen him run into the closed-off corridor that led to this forgotten part of the complex, but he did not want to take the chance. If someone had seen and followed... or told his family... If they found him... He shuddered. Falling back into the hands of those who chased him would mean that the ritual would proceed as planned. He had a flash of red-hot knives and his father's razor smile.

Shivering, he tried to distract himself by reading the text chiseled into the side of the offering table, but the huge chunks of missing plaster, into which the text had originally been incised, made the task an impossible one for a boy on the verge of panic. The sacred words blurred into meaninglessness. It was dark in the chapel, filled with an oppressive silence, and hot. Sweat trickled down his face and down the back of his neck, plastering his thin linen robe to his body. With each passing heartbeat, he was certain his uncles would find him and drag him, kicking and yelling, back to his father.

His eyes stung, and he pretended that all of the moisture that he wiped away with an angry swipe of his sleeve was just more of the sweat that left salty trails on his clammy skin. He did not _care_ about tradition. He _hated_ it! He did not want to be the eldest son, the heir. He did not want to be bonded to the Millennium Puzzle. And, most of all, he did not want to have the Seal of the Shadows carved into his back by his father's hand.

A sharp noise echoed up the corridor beyond the doorway. Atem froze, breath seizing in his lungs, heart pounding in his throat. It came again, the sound of a rock skittering across the floor as if kicked by a human foot. His heartbeat threatened to choke him. Had they found him?

Atem hunched lower in his corner, making himself as small as possible. He hugged his drawn up knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and scrunching forward to bury his face against his legs. His breath came in harsh little pants that he tried without success to stifle. His pulse thundered in his ears, so loud he could hear nothing over the sound of it, and his vision grayed around the edges.

He gritted his teeth, trying to choke back his terror, and sent a silent prayer to the Great Lord Amun that whoever was in the outer chamber would go away - _goawaygoaway__**goaway**_ - and leave him in peace.

Unfortunately for him, it seemed that on this day his prayers were to go unanswered.

He cringed lower in his hiding place when he heard the crunch and slide of sandaled feet moving over the scattered rock and plaster debris littering the floor of the chapel, coming with every step. His breath caught, the thick taste of terror choking him. His eyes burned, so he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face harder into the fine weave of his robe. A silent litany repeated itself over and over in his frantic mind: _no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no_...

He almost screamed when the rough hand slammed down on his shoulder.

Frightened almost out of his mind, he peered up to find one of his uncles looming over him. The man's hand tightened its grasp before Atem could attempt to squirm free. The man hauled him to his feet, dragged him into the light of the lamps the other men held. "I have found our little runaway!"

The triumph in that gruff voice made Atem's stomach lurch.

Summoned by the call, Atem's father appeared in the doorway. His face was shadowed, but Atem could hear the displeasure clearly in the cold, deep voice that commanded, "Bring him."

"Of course, brother."

Though he struggled, Atem could not free himself from his uncle's grip. The older man dragged him out to the larger chamber where the other men - priests, all, and family - were waiting. Uncle Mehen turned him over into the care of two of the younger men, cousins who resented the fact that a "runt like Atem" would one day be their ruler. Their hands on him were not kind.

Bruised and frightened, he was half-carried, half-dragged along the darkened corridors and into the isolated room where the sacred ritual would be performed. His father led the way.

In the ritual chamber, flames flickered from every direction. Lamps illuminated the walls and the stone platform at the center. In one corner, a brazier burned, adding to the smothering heat. Shadows, cast by the fires, writhed across every surface, twisting mundane objects into the stuff of nightmares. Atem stared at the shadows, trying to keep his gaze from the brazier, where he knew the knives were heating. A cousin tended them, making them ready to carve the sacred designs into his back. The markings that would brand him forever as a Tombkeeper lord.

His father broke the silence. "Place him on the stone."

Atem's captors obeyed, manhandling him over to the platform. They stripped his robes from him, so that he was naked, and forced him to lie upon the cold stone on his belly. While his cousins held him, one of his uncles shoved a cloth gag into Atem's mouth. He bit down on it, finding that there was a stick or flat piece of wood wrapped within the cloth. His uncle secured the gag around his head, so that Atem could not spit it out, and then his cousins crouched to secure his hands and feet so he couldn't wriggle free. No matter how hard he struggled, he could not escape.

He heard the sinister rasp of metal against metal. Straining his neck to its limit, he managed to twist enough to catch a glimpse of his father taking one of the glowing knives from the fire. The red-hot blade seemed to burn him across the distance separating them. Atem's eyes widened.

_No_, he begged silently, the gag allowing him only muffled pleading noises. _No, no, no - please, by all the Great Gods, do not do this! Father, please!_

His father strode toward him, the knife steady in his hand. No amount of pleading on his part would deter his father from carrying out the tradition; he could see that now.

"Hold him steady," his father ordered. His cousins obeyed, their rough hands biting into the tender flesh of his wrists and ankles. "The Seal must be perfect. Do not let him move."

His hand came down to stroke over Atem's hair. "This is your destiny, my son. Do not fear it. Embrace it and it will make you great!"

Atem shook his head, trying to deny what was about to happen to him. His father's hand gave his hair a painful tug as he forced Atem's neck to bend, to yield to a greater strength. Unable to move, to flee, Atem trembled as he felt the scratch of a charcoal stick tracing the Seal on his naked back.

A moment later, he screamed as the first knife bit into his flesh...

-o0o-

"...Yami! Wake up, Yami!"

Disoriented, Yami struggled up from the depths of unconsciousness. He was only vaguely aware, at first, of the concerned voice calling his assumed name. As it always did when he woke from a dream (_memory_) of the ritual, his back ached with phantom pain. Groaning, he curled in on himself, hugging his arms across his torso as if he could guard himself from it. His throat was tight and ached, and he could feel the traces of tears on his cheeks.

"Yami? Come on, open your eyes." The voice was gentle but persistent. "I need to know you're all right. You're scaring me, Yami. _Please,_ open your eyes_._"

Something about that voice tugged at him, made him want to reassure and comfort the speaker. Reluctantly, Yami cracked open his eyes... and found himself staring up into worried blue. "...Yugi?"

"Are you really awake now? You can hear me?" Yugi bent closer, frowning as he got a better look at Yami's face. "Are you okay?"

"It was just..." Yami could not quite stop the sharp, bitter laugh that bordered on a sob. He bit back the next one, recovering his poise as he shoved his body upright on what he now saw was Yugi's sofa, dislodging the blanket that had covered him. He cleared his throat before finishing the thought. "Just a dream. I'm fine."

Yugi didn't appear convinced. "That must have been some dream. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I am." Yami very firmly didn't allow any doubt to enter his voice. He tossed off the blanket, forcing Yugi to move away as he rose to his feet. "Thank you for your concern, but I'm quite all right."

"Well, if you say so."

The chiming of the doorbell interrupted whatever Yugi had been about to say. He shot an apologetic look at Yami. "Sorry. I need to go get that. I told one of my friends to come over for dinner tonight and-"

Yami gave a tired nod. "It's fine. Go ahead."

When Yugi returned a few minutes later, he had a familiar figure in tow. Yami stared at the blond cabbie as he followed Yugi into the living room. "Joey?"

"Hey, Yam man! Good ta see ya again." Joey grinned. "Although, I gotta say, this is just about the last place I expected to run into you. I woulda thought you'd avoid game shops like the plague."

"I was being chased by rabid fangirls. It was a case of 'any port in a storm.'" Yami started to return the grin, then Joey's nickname for him finally caught up with his still sleep-fogged brain. "'_Yam man_'?"

"Eh-heh." Joey rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "What? I think it's cute."

"Has anyone ever told you you're weird, Joey?" Yami's laugh took the sting out of the teasing words. He glanced over to find his host watching them both with enormous eyes.

Yugi's gaze ping-ponged between them. "You guys know each other?"

"Yami's the guy I was tellin' ya about earlier at the bakery, Yug'," Joey said. "You know, the one I've been havin' adventures with." He snickered at the expression on Yami's face. "What? You don't think those were adventures?"

"Living nightmares is more like it." Yami shook his head. "Tell you what - You go deal with the crazy fans for a few days and I'll drive your cab. What do you say?"

"I'd say you were on, but there's no way I'm doin' that-" Joey waved a hand at Yami's head. "-to my hair. Besides, nobody'd ever believe that I'm you."

"Suck that badly at Duel Monsters, huh?"

"Hey!" Joey drew himself up into a dramatic pose, thrusting one hand toward the ceiling, fingers forming a 'V for victory'. "I'll have you know that I once made the finals of the Domino City championship tournament!"

"Which he promptly lost to Weevil Underwood," Yugi interjected, earning himself a friendly headlock and a spirited attempt by Joey to noogie Yugi's head into submission. "Ack! _Joey_ - Cut it out!"

"We agreed never to speak of Bug Boy again!"

"_You_ agreed, maybe..."

"Well, _you're_ gonna agree now or else."

Yugi squirmed, almost succeeding in breaking out of his friend's hold. "No way! He beat you with an insect deck, Joey. That's just-"

"Oh, so that's how it is, huh? In that case, may I remind you that I know where your grandpa keeps the baby pictures and I'm sure Yami would love to see the 8x10 glossy of your bare butt adorning a bearskin rug-"

"I agree!" Yugi yelped without hesitation.

"Oh, you think he'd like that, too? Okay, I'll just go get the-"

"No!" When a spastic flurry of flailing limbs failed to free him, Yugi went limp in Joey's arms. "I give! I'll never mention Weevil again!"

With a triumphant "ha!", Joey set his captive free. Yugi staggered for a moment before regaining his balance. He busied himself trying to tame his hair, which Joey's antics had tangled into multicolored knots on top of his head.

"So..." Acting as if the past couple of minutes had never happened, Joey shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants and rocked back and forth on his heels. "What's for dinner?"

"I'm not sure. Grandpa hasn't gotten back yet with the groceries." Yugi gave up his hair as a lost cause. "Um, I can probably find some crackers or chips, if you want a snack while we wait."

"Nah, I'm good. A soda'd be nice, though."

"Sure. No problem." Yugi glanced at Yami. "Would you like something else to drink, Yami? I have soda, water, or more tea-?"

"Water, if it's no trouble."

"Nope! No trouble at all." Yugi smiled. "You guys sit down. I'll be right back."

"So," Yami said, settling back onto the sofa as he watched Joey take a seat in the comfortable-looking chair on the other side of the low coffee table. "You and Yugi are friends?"

"Oh, yeah. We've been best buds since high school. Well, after I got over that whole 'beating him up for his own good thing.'" Joey had the grace to look embarrassed. "Heh. I was kinda weird in high school."

Yami graciously refrained from remarking that Joey didn't appear to have changed much in the intervening years. He was relieved when Yugi reappeared a moment later with a tray of drinks balanced precariously in his hands. Without thinking, Yami leaped to his feet and took the tray from Yugi, setting it down on the coffee table. He straightened to find the other two eying him with surprise. Only then did he realize what he had done.

"Uh..." Yami cast about for a reasonable explanation for his actions and latched onto the first thing that popped into his head. "It looked heavy?"

Yugi's expression did a funny little dance before settling into what looked like "yeah, okay, let's go with that." Joey just snickered. Yami cast a glance around the room, searching for something to concentrate on other than the pink flush blooming on Yugi's cheeks. He found the wall clock over the television.

Had he really been asleep that long? By the time on the clock, it had been several hours since he sought refuge in the Kame Game Shop. He felt a flush of his own creeping up his neck. What must Yugi think of him, falling asleep like that? Yami could not believe how rude he had been; his mother would have been appalled.

"Yugi... Look, I'm really sorry for dozing off like that," Yami began.

Joey interrupted with a gleeful whoop. "He fell asleep on ya? No wonder it took you so long to answer the door!"

"Not like that, Joey!" Yugi's blush went nuclear. "He didn't mean it _literally_."

"Uh-huh. _Suuuure_ he didn't."

"No, I..." Yami shook his head. He was usually much more articulate than this. He could only think that it was some affect of his being separated for so long from the damn Puzzle. Which reminded him... "Er, I hate to be rude, Yugi, but would you mind if I called the airline again? I _really_ need to find my luggage."

"No, of course not. Do you want to make your call in the kitchen?"

"Thank you. That would be fine." Yami, his face still red as a beet if the temperature of his skin was anything to go by, retreated into the kitchen. Behind him, he could hear Yugi scolding Joey for teasing them.

Yami pulled out his cell phone and, before dialing the airline, took a minute to breathe a prayer to the Great Lord Amun, in his role as He Who Watches Over Travelers. With the way his luck had been going, Yami figured he needed all the help that he could get.

-o0o-

In the Honolulu International Airport, two men were eating frozen yogurt (White Chocolate Mousse and Raspberry Mango Swirl, respectively) and watching the complimentary hula show. The cold treat was a first for both of them, though they were divided on whether it was better than the hot dogs.

Without warning, the pendants on the taller man's Millennium Ring suddenly leaped to life, rising off his chest and straining toward the taxiway outside the terminal. The unexpected movement startled the man (who was, of course, Mahaad) so that his hand jerked, causing him to dump half a cone of White Chocolate Mousse down the back of his companion's neck. The shorter man (Karim, who had decided that frozen yogurt tasted much nicer than hot dogs) yelped as icy yogurt slithered down his neck and the back of his shirt. His own arm twitched, smashing his waffle cone into the center of his companion's chest, liberally smearing both the Millennium Ring and Mahaad's white silk robe with a blaze of hot pink and neon orange frozen yogurt.

Mahaad glowered. "_Karim_!"

"It was an accident, Mahaad. Besides-" Mourning the loss of his creamy slice of paradise, Karim glared back at him. "-you startled me when you dumped _your_ yogurt down the back of _my_ robe! Why did you do that? There are easier and far less messy ways of obtaining my attention."

Focusing on the quivering pendants hanging from the ring on his chest, Mahaad ignored the complaint. "The Puzzle is moving!"

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Karim huffed in annoyance at this oversight on his companion's part. "If we find the Puzzle, we will find Lord Atem. We must go after it at once!"

Mahaad glanced down at his once-pristine robe, now dripping with slimy sludge, and the rather large splotch of similar dampness decorating the middle of Karim's back. "First, we must find a change of clothing. We cannot get onto the airplane looking like this. We would draw far too much attention to ourselves."

Peering around the crowded concourse, Karim spotted a shop on the other side of the line of undulating hula dancers. An unholy gleam came into his dark eyes as he studied the offerings on display in the shop's window. "Never fear, cousin. I think I have found _exactly_ what we need."

Grabbing Mahaad by the arm, a madly grinning Karim hauled him toward the Pineapple Paradise Aloha Shirt Emporium. The goods in the display window (particularly the fluorescent green shirt with the purple penguins 'hanging ten' on hot pink waves) were calling his name.


	8. Chapter 8

Spellcheck hates Joey's dialogue. :D

* * *

Chapter 8

In the Mutou's living room, Yugi flopped bonelessly down onto the sofa (coincidentally, in the same spot Yami had so recently vacated) and reached for his can of soda. He glared at Joey from under his tousled bangs. "I can't believe you said that! And to _the_ Yami, of all people!"

"_'The'_ Yami? Dude. He's just a regular guy - if you ignore the multicolored-starfish-hair-of-doom, that is." Joey popped the top on his soda and slugged back a long swallow. He lowered the green can, belched happily, and grinned. "Oh, yeah. That hits the spot!"

If Tristan had been there, he would have smacked Joey on the back of the head and chided him for having the manners of a feral stoat. Yugi just rolled his eyes and used his finger to draw smiley face patterns in the condensation on the side of his own soda can.

"Seriously, Yug'," Joey continued, stretching his long legs out in front of him and resting his Mountain Dew on his flat stomach. "He's not like that, at least not from what I've seen. You don't have to treat him like anything special - not like a celebrity, I mean. From the way things have been going for him since he got to Domino City, the man'd probably appreciate just bein' treated like one of the guys."

Yugi looked unconvinced. "You really think so? He's a famous duelist, Joey. He's probably used to VIP treatment."

"No way. I'm tellin' you, he acts like he'd rather be a regular slob like you an' me. Trust me on this one, buddy. He's not lookin' for special treatment. Or, maybe, just being treated like a regular guy _is_ the special treatment where he's concerned."

A thoughtful expression crossed Yugi's face. Maybe Joey had a point. After all, Yami _had_ been fleeing from his fans when he came into the game shop. If he'd really wanted to be treated like someone who should be put on a pedestal, then wouldn't he have just stayed on the street and enjoyed the adulation of his admirers?

"Maybe you're right..."

"I know I am." Joey looked smug. "Look. When he comes back out of the kitchen, just try it and see. Okay?"

Yugi nodded. It would not hurt anything, and he would find out quickly enough if such treatment insulted Yami or not. He glanced at the clock, wondering what was keeping his grandfather.

-o0o-

Yami had gotten mixed news from the airline. On the good side of the equation, they had confirmed his luggage was indeed in Honolulu. On the bad side, it would be at least day after tomorrow before it could be sent back to Domino City. Always assuming, of course, that the baggage handlers didn't, in another fit of whimsy, send his bags jaunting off to Timbuktu or (the way his luck was running) the moon.

He sighed. What had possessed him to think a vacation would be a good idea anyway? From now on, he was sticking with what he knew: being a workaholic. Just like Kaiba. Who really _could_ have offered him a room in that ridiculously oversized mansion, come to think of it, rather than condemning Yami to Convention Hell for the next three days. Yami scowled and began pondering what he could do to pay the billionaire back on their next meeting. Oh, yes. Seto Kaiba needed to _pay_ for this one.

Visions of mayhem dancing like sugar plums in his head, Yami stalked back into the living room. Two pairs of startled eyes lifted to meet his as he re-entered the room.

"Dude." Joey's brown eyes widened at the expression on Yami's face. "Who are you plotting to murder?"

_Oh, no_. He was _not_ going to kill Kaiba.

"Death's too good for him," Yami growled, dropping onto the sofa and reaching for his glass of water. The other two continued to stare at him. He took a long, steadying sip before noticing their expressions. "Kaiba. He could have offered to put me up in that mansion of his, but _noooo_. Instead, I'm stuck in the Hotel of Never-ending Parties until Sunday - Monday, if the con-goers don't actually clear out until after the first of the week..."

_Oh, god_. Yami blanched as that particular possibility sank in. "I may _actually_ _die_ of sheer exhaustion if I don't get a decent night's sleep sometime within the next 72 hours."

Yugi looked sympathetic. Joey looked sly. He leaned over and stretched out one long leg to nudge Yugi with the toe of his ratty trainers. "You got a spare room, don'tcha, Yugi?"

"Um. What?" Yugi's eyes had gone so wide they appeared to be staging a coup on his other facial features. "_Joey_-"

"I wouldn't want to impose." Yami couldn't quite keep the hopeful note out of his voice. The thought of having to return to Hotel Hell was making his headache worse by a factor of a million. He was even willing to do a little begging if that would get him out of going back there. "After all, you don't even know me."

"No, I- That is-" Yugi stammered, his face flaming even brighter red than before. He went to set his soda on the tray and almost tipped the whole thing over. Yami reacted without thinking, catching the falling soda can - and Yugi's hand into the bargain. Yugi's blush went nuclear. "I... I... I..."

"What he's tryin' to say is that it's no trouble at all, Yami. There's a spare bedroom upstairs, and no reason you can't hide out here 'til the con's over. _Right_, Yugi?"

Yugi ripped his gaze away from where Yami's fingers rested against his and glared at Joey. Then he sighed. "I guess it'd be okay. If... If you really want to." He bit his lower lip and cut his gaze back toward Yami, looking at him obliquely from behind the shelter of his hair. "...Do you?"

Did he? Yami hesitated. He reached for his water glass again, only then realizing that he was still holding Yugi's hand. He jerked his own hand away, and then felt bad for the rude gesture - although whether the rude gesture in question was the unsolicited hand-holding or the jerking of said hand away, he couldn't have said.

"I... Are you sure it would be all right?" Yami _really_ didn't want to go back to that hotel, not even to get his things, though he supposed he would have to. Assuming, of course, that Yugi was actually going to let him stay here. "I don't want to put you out or anything, but... I would _really_ appreciate the offer, if you mean it."

Yugi sighed. "Of course, I mean it." He shot an unfathomable look at Joey, who was grinning like a jack-o-lantern on crack. "I would be happy to offer you a room for the weekend, Yami."

"And I'll even go to the Hotel o' Doom and pick up your stuff for ya, so you don't have to run the fan gauntlet," Joey said cheerfully, sitting up and giving them both a hearty thumbs up gesture. "Just gimme your room key."

"Thank you." Yami felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He could feel himself starting to grin. "Thank you both. You don't know what this means to me."

He looked at Yugi, who smiled in return. "I think maybe I can guess," Yugi said, and got to his feet. "Give Joey your key, and I'll go make up the bed in the guest room."

Feeling better than he had since he had gotten off the plane, Yami fished his electronic room key out of his pocket and tossed the card to Joey. "I'll call the hotel and tell them I'm checking out. Just turn in the key on your way back."

"You got it."

They watched Joey dash out of the room and heard him clatter down the stairs to the front door, by passing the shop. Yami turned back to Yugi. "I can't thank you enough for doing this, Yugi. _Really_. I'm in your debt. If there is ever anything I can do to repay your kindness-"

"It's no problem, Yami. I'm just happy I can help." Yugi smiled up at him. "You call the hotel and take care of that while I take care of things upstairs. I'll be right back."

Yami could only nod and wonder what had happened to finally turn his luck around.

-o0o-

Yugi smoothed the fresh sheet, which smelled of the fabric softener his grandfather had used in the laundry, over the small bed in the guest room. He placed the pillows, each encased in an equally fragrant pillow case, back on the bed, and then tucked the blankets into place. There. His gaze meandered around the tidy little room. Everything seemed to be in order, he thought with a faint smile. Satisfied that the room was ready for his unexpected guest, he trotted back downstairs. He had barely made it to the hallway when the house phone rang.

Quickly, Yugi scooted over to where the phone hung on the wall and snatched up the receiver. "Hello? Mutou residence."

"Yugi? It's Grandpa."

"Oh, hey, Grandpa. Is everything all right? I wasn't expecting it to take you this long just to pick up a few groceries."

"No, no. Everything's fine. I just ran into an old friend at the grocery store and we got to talking. It has been years since we've seen each other, so we have a lot of catching up to do. In fact," Solomon said, "we're planning to go out for a drink, so I won't be home until later. I just wanted to call and let you know so you wouldn't worry."

"Oh. Okay." Yugi debated with himself over whether or not to tell his grandfather about their houseguest. He could hear voices in the background and decided that it would probably be a better idea to wait until Solomon got home so that Yugi could break the news to him in person. "Well, have fun!"

"I will. Oh, and since I won't be home in time for dinner, why don't you order a pizza or two?"

"Um, I kind of told Joey he could have dinner with us-"

"Make it three or four, then. My treat."

"Thanks!"

"You're welcome." Yugi could hear the laughter in his grandfather's voice. "Don't wait up."

"Okay. See you in the morning, then."

"All right. 'Bye."

"'Bye, Grandpa." Yugi hung up the phone, and absently wandered into the living room. He wondered who his grandfather might have run into. An old friend he hadn't see in years? Hmmm. So preoccupied was he by his musings that he nearly collided with Yami before snapping out of his haze. "Oops! Sorry. I was a little distracted."

"I could tell." Yami peered at him. "Is everything all right?"

"Hmm? Oh! Yes, everything is fine. That was my grandpa on the phone. Looks like it's just going to be you, me, and Joey for dinner. Grandpa's got other plans." Yugi gave him a hopeful look. "Do you like pizza?"

Yami smiled. "I love pizza."

"Great! I know what kind Joey likes, so I can go ahead and order them. Anything you particularly like or don't like on your pizza?"

"I'm not very picky." Yami winked. "Whatever you like is fine by me."

Inexplicably, Yugi felt his face flushing hotly. Jeez, what was wrong with him? It was not like the other man was flirting with him or anything! _Get a hold of yourself, Yugi_, he told himself sternly. _Get a hold of yourself before the man thinks you're a nutcase or liable to start chasing him like one of his fanboys_. "Um. Thick crust or thin?"

"Either is fine." Seeing the look on Yugi's face, Yami quickly added, "Maybe I like thin crust a bit better than thick. Sometimes. Um."

Yugi chuckled. "Okay. How about I order two with thin crust and two with thick?"

"Sounds like a good plan to me." Yami shared a friendly, conspiratorial grin with him.

Yugi nodded and headed back to the phone. "If I order them now, they should get here about the same time Joey does."

"I hope he doesn't have any trouble getting my stuff and settling up with the hotel."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. Joey can handle it." Yugi thought about this for a second. This was Joey they were talking about, after all. Honesty compelled him to add, "...Probably."

"You're not exactly boosting my confidence here, Yugi." Yami laughed. "I think Joey can handle one carry-on bag and a couple of pairs of blue jeans."

"Yeah, most likely..." Yugi was not sure what had gotten into him, but he could not resist the urge to tease Yami. "I'm sure it won't be anything like the Squid Incident last year."

"The _Squid_ Incident? Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not." Tossing Yami a cheeky wink, Yugi went to call in his order for the pizzas.

-o0o-

Despite Yugi's teasing hints to the contrary, Joey returned to the apartment over the Kame Game Shop having successfully completed his mission, with Yami's meager belongings in hand. True to Yugi's predictions, Joey's arrival coincided with the delivery of the pizzas. Over pizza and sodas, the three young men joked and talked about inconsequential things, and played some of the board games Yugi had collected over the years.

It quickly became apparent that Yami and Yugi were a bit too evenly matched at games. They inadvertently tag-teamed Joey no matter what they ended up playing. Over Monopoly, Yugi noticed that Yami was, once again, beginning to fade. He pretended to yawn. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm beat. I think I should call it a night."

"Yeah, me, too." For once, Joey took the hint without being bashed over the head with it. He yawned for real. "I got an early day tomorrow, as usual. Guess I oughta head on home and hit the hay."

Yami nodded, but the nod went awfully deep and ended up with his chin almost hitting his chest. Joey exchanged a glance with Yugi. "But maybe we oughta help our pal here up to his bed first."

"Yeah, I think that would be a good idea." Yugi stifled a laugh.

Between the two of them, they wrestled Yami up from his seat on the floor in front of the sofa and, staggering a bit unsteadily since Yami was practically out on his feet and was not much help, got him up the stairs and down the short hallway to the guest room.

"Jeez," Joey wheezed as they half walked, half staggered through the bedroom doorway. "For a thin guy, he sure is heavy."

"Yeah..." Yugi wheezed right along with him. "Let's get him over to the bed before my arms fall off."

"_Oof_."

They half-dragged, half-carried him over to the bed. Joey held Yami up while Yugi turned back the covers, then the two of them settled him on the bed and Yugi tucked him in. After that, they both tiptoed from the guest bed room, with Yugi gently closing the door behind them.

_Good night, Yami_, Yugi thought with a faint smile lingering on his lips. _I hope your dreams are sweet_.

He had a feeling he knew what his own dreams would be about, tonight.


End file.
